Can you imagine the conversation between Mike Jones and an owl?

It'd be about as intelligent as Kanye's lyrics.  Or anything Larry the Cable Guy has ever spoken.

Reasons Zaxby's is better than friends:

-When you give Zaxby's money, you get something in return, and it's better than money.

-Zaxby's doesn't get angry, moody, depressed, or irrational.

-If you get angry, moody, depressed or irrational, Zaxby's can make you feel better.

-If you eat Zaxby's you won't go to jail.

That's all I can think of due to the extreme hunger that writing this has caused, but the long and short of it is that Zaxby's is possibly the greatest human achievement in the history of history, and if you disagree you either are a satanist, the most extreme case of nonconformist ever, or have been victim to a horrible accident which resulted in your taste buds being removed and/or sever mental damage.

I've got to say, the Yellawood commercials have got to be the most idiotic advertisements I've seen in a long time.  For those of you that haven't been blessed with the magnificent acting that is Yellawood, it is the equivalent of a local car commercial, but it's all over the South.  And it doesn't stop there.  They attempt to include riveting plots to keep you on the edge of your seats.  The only problem is that this advertisement has all the finger-biting excitement of a slow motion chess game played by two monotone chemistry professors.  I'd say that they were ranked as the most hated commercials in the South eastern United States, but I'm not sure that's true and I promised myself I'd never do any more research past what Yahoo Answers could tell me.

I think one of the most depressing things commonly seen on college campuses is bicycle tires sitting locked to a rack by themselves.  I have a personal bias, as I had a bicycle stolen from me a year or two ago (if you'd like to see my retaliation, click here).  Honestly though, how would you feel if you locked up your bike, went to class (or Zaxby's), and came back to see only a front tire?  You have to admit you kind of deserved it for not knowing how to lock it up, but that's besides the point.  It would suck.  That's why, in the off chance that I forget to lock my bike in the correct thief-deterring fashion, I have decided that I am going to wire a few 1 million volt taser devices to my bike that will only be deactivated when the bike is correctly unlocked.  I can see the headline now.  "Bike Thief Incinerated After Trying To Steal The Wrong Bike."

Word of the Day:  Humility.

Shout out to Kayla Blofsky.

I used to be indecisive, now I'm just not sure.

It's one of my biggest debates with myself.  I'm open to opinions though.

Ladies and Gentlemen, devout followers, I apologize for my hiatus.  Last Thursday, St. Patrick's Day, was my birthday, and I got sidetracked.....for a couple days.  If you were gracious enough to wish me a Happy Birthday or anything along those lines, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  If you didn't, I hope you get hit by a freight train.  Regardless, I am back, so you can resume your normal lives, and I truly hope this little hiccup did not have too devastating an effect on your sanity.

As I was driving back from Alabama the other day, I was passed by a semi truck (don't judge, I had time to burn and gas to save so I was driving slow on purpose).  Any way, this semi truck was one of the huge tanker that holds gasoline or oil or something like that.  It's about 40 feet long, and made of very old rusty steel.  So why, I ask you, does this explosive, tetanus-inducing, massive behemoth of an automobile have a sitcker on the back that reads "INEDIBLE" in big block letters?  I simply want to know what happened that made that sticker necessary, that's all.

While driving around the nation over the past couple years I have noticed another bumper sticker/ flag/ sign that is very common: Baby On Board.  This is not a new take on this sticker, but the people that have one need to take a nice big gulp of common sense.  I hate to break it to you, but putting that little sticker on the back of your bumper changes absolutely nothing.  If somebody wants to hit your car that bad, chances are they don't care if it's a baby driving an ice cream truck full of puppies and bunnies.  Last time I checked, most people are relatively sane, not selectively moral, and are not planning on ramming random cars as they drive down the highway.

I often laugh about death.  Whoa, that sounded a lot more messed up than I thought it would.  I mean as in like fear of dying.  I like to think I'm not scared of dying, is what I'm trying to say.  Stop yelling at me.  Anyway, no matter how cool I like to think I am, I will never be as cool as a man I learned about named James French.  That is also probably not the best wording for that, seeing as French was a convicted murderer.  Nonetheless, as French was being strapped into the electric chair to be killed, his last words were, I kid you not, "Hey fellas, how about this for a headline for tomorrow's paper:  French Fries!!"  Go ahead and accept it.  No one, nowhere, EVER, will have a pun of that magnitude for the rest of humanity.  That, my friends, is dedication.  Now if only he hadn't been a serial killer.....

Random Fact Of The Day:  Barney (the purple dinosaur) is from Dallas, Texas.

Shout out to Jennilyn Pierson.

With sufficient thrust, pigs fly just fine.

That's also true for almost anything.  I know from experience.

So within the last two weeks, there have been two shootings around my apartment, and two student muggings.  Welcome to Atlanta.  Apparently the Dark Side has taken over, as we also have Storm Troopers directing traffic [see facebook photo].  However, whilst talking about this issues in one of my classes, a certain student failed to see the circumstances for what they really were.  Every time somebody voiced a concern, she would retort with some kind of "cup-half-full" nonsense that had nothing to do with helping the problem.  Now I'm not saying optimism is a bad thing, on the contrary, it's a great thing if it's in reasonable doses.  Full-on blind optimism, however, is ridiculous.  I like to call it "Light-At-The-End-Of-The-Tunnel Vision".  Now there's no name for optimism like there is for pessimism (ex. Negative Nancy, Pessimist Patty), but if there was, she's in my class and she needs a good dose of Life Sucks to bring her down to the normal level.   And judging by this paragraph, I could probably use a little of what she's got.

I hate when you type a word, and you're 100% positive you've spelled it right, and spell check agrees with you, but then you look at the word, I mean really look at it, and you think there's absolutely no way that it's right.  All of a sudden the spelling looks ridiculous, then you start questioning your sanity, thus beginning a downward spiral in which you drop out of college, lose your job, your significant other leaves you, and you inevitably end up under a bridge in the middle of Birmingham, Alabama asking for spare change and waiting to die.  All because "atrocious" looked a little strange.

So I was thinking about having contests on here, like questions or something, and then whoever commented first with the right answer or completed it first would get something.  Then I started thinking, "What the hell do I have that's anyone at all wants?  And more importantly that I'm willing to give away."  Well I came to the conclusion that there isn't much, but I've decided that if I do that I'm going to mail the winner something of my choosing, and you won't know what it is until you get it.  It could be anything from a money to a note to something that's been sitting on my desk for three years that I've never used.  (For example, that stupid little green stapler.)  Anyway, if y'all would be down for that, gimme a shout.  If not, well I'm not asking you.

Have any of you seen the show "The Closer"?  I'm going to assume you nodded.  Well whoever the woman is that's the lead character is, she makes me want to punch infants.  There's something about how a small hick woman can intimidate a 230 lb prison inmate that just strikes me as a little bit of a stretch.  Also, anybody that says, "They're going to kill you dead" deserves to be killed dead.  It's redundant and you should be silent for the sake of humanity.  Other countries think we're stupid already, we don't need people like you going around a proving them right.

You know what I find funny?  The word "hip."  I'm talking about "hip" as a descriptive term.  It has got to be the most counterproductive word in the english language.   Supposedly it means cool, up to date, and with it (which is a stretch as well).  What I find ironic is that as soon as you use the word, such as in saying, "I'm hip", you immediately prove that whatever you're talking about is exactly the opposite of what you belive "hip" to mean.  So let me break this down for the parents, grandparents, marketing agencies, etc:  When you use hip to describe something, you better be talking talking about that area on the human body inflate by sugary snacks that connects the legs to the torso.  Otherwise, you will instantly lose all creditability with the younger generations.

Color Of The Week:  Green.

Shout out to Annie Holm.

If a tree falls and there's no one around to hear it, I hope it lands on a philosopher.

Don't get me wrong, I love philosophy, mostly because I love arguing, but some philosophers just need a good beating.  Mostly the modern day ones.  The older ones were discovering, creating, and generally analyzing what could be.  Today, they're just trying to piss people off, and as a result I want to slap them with a crowbar.

Okay, if you ran in the past, you went running.  If you drew a second ago, you were drawing.  If you canoed down a river, you went _______.  Write that word down.  Canoeing.  Take another good look at that word.  It freaks the hell out of me.  The people that came up with the spelling of that word had to be witches.  I don't like it, not one bit.  Which sucks because I really enjoy using those little boat things.

I've decided that all my first dates from here on out are going to be lasertag.  [478.719.0613, call if you're interested and a girl.]  I figure if we go play lasertag, and she enjoys it slash kicks ass, we are meant to be and can make it through anything.  There will be dinner of course, but I'll probably let her pick where, just as a final indicator.  I swear to God if she orders bacon though I'll excuse myself from the table, jog on down to the nearest Kay's or Jared, buy something completely out of my price range, call a minister and have him meet me back at the restaurant, sprint back, straighten up in the restroom, calmly walk back to the table, and demand she marries me on the spot.

When it comes down to it, I would rather let Charlie Sheen deliver my first born child than watch another episode of the Jersey Shore.  Just thought I'd get that out there.

There was a girl in my class this morning who had McDonald's.  There are several things wrong with this.  One, it's McDonald's.  Two, it's eight in the morning.  Three, she had two bags, and I mean the big bags they give when you order a family's worth of food.  Four, well there is no four, but it's still just gross.  I have the metabolism of four people, internal organs made of galvanized steel, and if I eat one McGriddle and I immediately call my lawyer to revise my last will and testament because I'm sure death is coming.  Come on darling, I'm sure there are people that love you.  Please stop eating like that, cause if you don't.....well, cancel Christmas, cause you're going down hard.

Random Fact Of The Day:  Today, March 11th, was Romeo and Juliet's wedding day according to Shakespeare.

Shout out to Franky Davis.

If you're one in a million, there are about 7 thousand people exactly like you.

I bet you feel special now, huh?  Well you shouldn't.

Well, Spring Break is over.  I had fun though.  Chico represent.  Dirty 530 baby.  To most of you, that means absolutely nothing, as it should.  Put the gun down, take a couple deep breaths, and don't worry about it.  It's not that important and your pet rock needs you around.  Anyway, I hate the first day back.  It's like the day after Christmas, except instead of a bunch of cool presents, you have a hangover.  I'm about as excited as a cow headed to the butcher, and about as clueless.  I just want summer, and as fast as possible.  On the up side I'm done with school on April 28th, which I can only believe is because our school calendar-maker is on loads of Speed, and wants everything done at a Nascar tempo.

You know what weirds me out?  When someone says, "Let's go grab a coffee."  When someone says that, I immediately picture a room with about 50 winged cups of coffee flying around frantically, and that person is jumping around trying to catch one.  But that's just me.

I like animals.  Who doesn't, really?  I have problems with the zoo, though.  The aquarium is one thing because when I go to the aquarium I expect to see animals that are just chillin, so there are no disappointments.  The zoo is a different story, however.  It's gotten boring.  Really, really boring.  If I want to see a sleeping monkey, I'll tranquilize one.  In my opinion, the zoo should be an educational and fun experience.  That being said, I believe that we should put all the animals in one cage.  I think it would be a lot more interesting, and would teach everybody about the chain of command in the animal world.  It might be a little controversial, but then again we could solve that by throwing PETA into the cage too.  Everybody wins.

While we're on the topic of controversy, let's talk about steroids.  It's come to my attention that people are frustrated with athletes that are use steroids.  These people are stupid.  These are the same people that say "It doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's how you play the game," which we all know is shit.  "It doesn't matter."  Pssh.  Maybe when you're too young to know the name of the game you're playing, but let's face it, as soon as you hit puberty it matters.  A lot.  For the majority of sports-related people, winning or losing determines their employment status, salary, or scholarship.  And let's be honest, we don't watch sports for wholesome personalities or to see people try really hard, we watch it because we want our team to kick ass and take names.  Even when we don't have a bias for one of the teams, we still want to see a good performance, not a good effort, and no they are not the same thing.  We, as humans, want to see the best of the best, which is why we don't watch women's sports. (ZING!)  But regardless of who's playing, the better they are the more enjoyment we get out of it.  That's why, in my opinion, performance-enhancing drugs are actually just enjoyment-enhancing drugs, and they should be very legal.  Plus, can you imagine sports if we legalized them?  Players would be near invincible, and our drug companies would be getting money from the NFL to research and develop pharmaceuticals that turn average Joe's into superhumans!!  Long story short, if you're against steroids, you're basically saying you want all of humanity to be weak and die.  How unpatriotic can you be??  It's just irrational and it makes me sick.

Now that we're talking about sports, here are some that really piss me off and I think should be banned from existence:

-Handball.  Really?  Face it, you're just tennis for the poor.  Please go away.

-Curling.  I'll be honest, I was leading the pack during the olympics cheering for the curlers.  And it was a large pack.  But that's just it, we love it because it's the biggest joke to ever hit the sporting world.  It's a combination of Ice Skating and Shuffleboard, neither of which are real sports in the first place.

-Cricket.  Yes I realize I'm ignorant because it's the second most played sport in the world, but guess what?  It's named after a bug.  All creditability revoked.  Also, it has roughly 312,000 rules.  It sucks.

-Table Tennis.  I'm not really sure I need to go into detail here.  Yea, it's a fun game recreationally.  And that's where it ends.  Any point beyond that is just embarrassing.  If handball is tennis for the poor, table tennis, or ping pong (which makes me think of a panda) is tennis for the nerds.  The fact that there are actual leagues for it make me want to throw up.  Put down the paddles, go continue playing World of  Warcraft, and stop pretending you're athletes.

The other day I overheard a couple classmates talking about how they had a friend who was a music major.  They were commenting about how worthless of a major Music is, and how hard it is to find a job  out of college.  Then one student (Student 1) said that Student 2 was just as worthless.  Student 2 said, "No I'm not, I'm an Art Major." Mmhmm.  That kind of like defending your manliness by saying you play the harp.  You lose, buddy.

Happy Name Tag Day everybody!!  (If you're reading this late, it was March 10th.  You missed it.  Way to go.)

Shout out to Briar Carpenter.

A joke is a very serious thing.

Warning:  The contents of this today's blog will be a continuous rant.  This was not a pre-meditated blog, and thus will be in stream-of-consciousness style, like the ones we were forced to do in freshmen english, but hopefully more interesting.  If you haven't read the liability waiver, click HERE.

Life right now is less than appealing.  I am leaving Chico (again).  It was a good vacation, and like all vacations, the departure sucks.  This, however, is getting out of hand.  Let me explain: First off, I'm on a plane that is shorter than I am.  I feel like I'm on that show Little People.  So on top of having to wake up to fly home with a hangover that could take down Goliath himself, I walk headfirst into the 5 foot high baggage compartment.  Apparently I was mistaken when I assumed the "overhead" compartments were supposed to be above me and not chest level.  Also, I'm on a prop plane right now.  I didn't even know these were still legal.  I feel like were about to take off and drop pesticide over a large field.  I've never understood why they have to keep us on the plane, either.  We're going to be here for at least another hour, you could at least let us out of the aircraft.  Not that the Chico Municipal Airport is Disneyland though.  More like Disneyland's sketchy, half retarded, gang member cousin.  The only thing keeping me sane (that might not be the word for it) is my imagination.  I'm still waiting for anacondas to start slithering out of the bathrooms.  I'm tired of these mother fucking snakes on this mother fucking plane too, Samuel L Jackson.  At least that would make things more interesting.  Hey, look at that, now we’re in the air.  Does it blow anybody else’s mind that we now can access the internet in flight?  I don’t know whether to be stoked or depressed.  As for now, I’m happy that our consumerist materialistic selves came to terms with the fact that we can’t suck up the 2 hour flight without being able to get on Facebook while hurtling through the air 30,000 feet above the ground at 436 mph in a pressurized metal tube. Holy shit.  I am thirty thousand feet above you right now.  That’s an interesting thought.  Whoever figured out these plane things is a genius.  You know who isn’t a genius?  The guys that decided to build New Orleans.  Great city, love it to death, unfortunately the guys that planned it were hammered drunk.  I’ve got an idea, let’s not build a city under sea level and put it next to the damn water.  Seriously?  But then again, what would we do without New Orleans.  Mardi Gras anyone?  The biggest celebration in the US, even though 90% of everyone who celebrates it has no idea what it’s actually about.  We’re celebrating because we really like the colors green and purple.  And beads, we like those too.  Enough with the charades people, let’s just embrace the fact that we just want an excuse to drink.  America.  Fat, unemployed, and drunk.  Livin the dream.  Speaking of fat unemployed drunks, I recently visited Alabama.  (BURN.)  Whilst there, I had the pleasure of driving behind a….well, I don’t really know what to call him because the term” redneck” really doesn’t do it justice.  Whatever the next stage of redneck is, I was driving behind it.  He passed me, honest to God I almost peed.  I didn’t realize that they allowed jet airliners on the freeways, but I guess everything goes in Bama.  After blowing out my eardrums with an engine roar comparable to an atom bomb, he blew past me and tried to suffocate me with enough black exhaust to kill the entire state of Massachusetts.  And It wasn’t just your standard hick truck.  I’m talking one of those two-story monster trucks that runs on baby tears and has the turning radius of an aircraft carrier.  I’d slash his tire but I think they’re probably filled with explosives and/or other cars.  I want a flamethrower.  I think I’ve included this in a previous blog, but it’s so amazingly awesome that I’ll say it again.  The best thing about flamethrower (besides everything), is the fact that their sole existences proves that at some point, someone thought, “I really want those people to be on fire, but I’m just not close enough to do the job.”  Moral of the story?  Don’t have one, but feel free to interject your own.  Unless it involves something that defiles the name of bacon.  Seriously though, if you’ve ever held a flamethrower you know how it feels to instantly transform into a ball of awesomeness.  That’s how we need to recruit for the army.  A guy is scared?  Hand him a  flamethrower and let him play around for five minutes.  If he’s anything like me, he’ll come back half crazy and with the amped up destructive energy of the A-Team on a crack binge.  He’ll sign up and hop on the first boat to wherever we’re fighting, and probably won’t even run home to get clothes.  And let’s be honest, he’s armed with a flamethrower so you’re not gonna argue with him.  I’d like to see a fight between two guys with a flamethrower and a fire hose (water included).  40 year old guy in a Lady Gaga t-shirt, not okay.  Please get a new wardrobe and stop embarrassing humanity.  I just realized I'm eating subway in an airplane.  As I sit here listening to Symphonies by Dan Black on repeat trying to soothe my anger to a dull frustration, I am realizing that the guy next to me also is struggling with the little child a couple rows back that feels the need to let the entire airplane know that he is uncomfortable and possibly hungry.  Shut up, little child.  There is no need to yell, and it's not making it easier for anybody.  Huzzah, we're landing.  Now I'm in San Francisco.  It never ceases to amaze me.  A man just walked by in a bright red leather jacket with glitter and had one of those garter belt things on the outside of his jeans.  I really hope he lost a bet.  Time to board, next stop Dallas.  Alright, that's enough of this nonsense rambling.  You people have a nice day.

Shout out to Ronne Blofsky aka Ronn-Dawg.

The trouble isn't that there are too many fools, but that the lightning isn't distributed right.

That's from my good friend Mark Twain.  I wish I had control of lightning, there are definitely some people I can think of that would get a bolt or two.  Also, I'd be the most badass s'more maker ever.

Things that frustrate me/don't make sense to me:

-When watching TV, you press the channel up button to see higher channels.  When on the TV Guide, you press the channel down button to see higher channels.

-Enter 99 on a microwave to cook your food for 99 seconds.  Enter 100 to cook your food for 60 seconds.

Here's something else interesting:  It might just be me, but whenever I'm waiting, say at an airport, bus stop, etc, I feel like the people waiting with me are now my friends.  Which is funny, because they're not.  And they won't act like it either.  Regardless, has anybody else been waiting for something like that for at least fifteen minutes, and there's a person waiting like five feet from you the entire time?  By the end I kind of feel like, you know, we've been through some shit together.  Kind of like when people get back from the army and they're bonded for life, except on a slightly smaller level.  Anyway, I was waiting for my paternal person to pick me up from the Dallas airport and he was running a little late.  There was another guy there waiting for his ride too (not from my dad though).  It was about half an hour or a little more.  Before you get too far in this imaginative venture, let's be clear that over this extended period of time, no words were spoken, and we didn't even make eye contact.  However, me and my freakishly childlike imagination took it to another level, and by the time I left, it was as if me and Stranger #1 were the best of friends, if not blood brothers.  So naturally, when my dad pulled up, I turned around to the man, for the first time keep in mind, and said, "Alright man, you have a good one, okay?"  To which he responded with a bewildered and slightly angry glare.  I realized what happened, jumped on my motorcycle, and sped off through a huge explosion.  Actually what happened is I realized I had spoken out loud, my eyes widened, I stared awkwardly, turned, got in my dad's car, and tried to forget that ever took place.  The jerk could've at least forced a "You too."  Obviously common decency is lost on some people.

I find it ironic that Rihanna has a restraining order against Chris Brown for hitting her, and then she comes out with the song "S&M."  If you don't know the lyrics, google them.  She needs to make up her mind.

Do you want to know something that everybody loves?  Surprises.  (There are so many puns I could do with this that I've decided to leave them out entirely.)  Good surprises, that is.  Only the good ones.  Not the kind where you think you did really good on a test and SURPRISE!! You have cancer.  That would suck.  I'm talking about the kind where, I don't know, something happens that is awesome that nobody saw coming.  I'm writing about this because as of right now, I am sitting in the San Francisco airport waiting for a connecting flight to Chico, where not a single person knows I'm coming.  They are probably all still curled up in their little beds dreaming of whatever the hell sugarplums are.  Me?  Oh no biggie fries, I've just been up since 4 am central time traveling.  But it's cool, I enjoy people watching, and the airport is basically the Mecca of people watching.  Especially San Fran, which I'm pretty sure is where the word "diversity" was created.  No wait, that was at the Jelly Belly factory, San Francisco was where they created "weird as fuck."

I'm convinced that after the city builds a road, they then hire Waldo to put up the street signs because everywhere I've driven within the last couple days the signs have been behind a bush, a tree and a lamppost.  I mean for the most part I know the laws and stuff, but I'm just saying that I'm going to be furious if I get a ticket because I didn't see a sign that was three stories up inside some guys office behind the printer.

Fact of the Day:  Rain drops can fall at speeds of up to 22 mph.

Shout out to Jme Alcorn.