Check the link. For a MERE $400, I could smoke tobacco out of my likeness! Pretty badass..
What a dreary Monday. Yet, so typical. One would expect rain on a Monday..
Anyhow, I've felt awfully hatemongerish today and I don't know why. Maybe it was the dream I had:
The dream started with me being handed 3 different things: a large gun (either shotgun or automatic), a handgun, and a knife of some kind. I asked why I was being handed these things, and the answer came from nobody and nowhere at the same time: it was the Zombie Apocalypse. Everyone was killing each other out of mistrust too, so it was every man for himself. The weird part is, if you got killed, you respawned. I was running around in first person, killing everyone threatening to kill me, because the death experienced I could actually feel in my sleep; so every time I was stabbed to death, I felt it.
After a while of senseless killing, I used my words. I explained how pointless this all was and a few seemed to agree. So myself and the small band I had gathered closed ourselves off in what seemed to be a corporate office in the mexican jungle. There were two doors in this room, and a couple windows. The office was set across from another building as well, but it appeared to be abandoned and completely broken down, posing no threat. The doors in the room were locked and blocked off by things, but the people on the outside learned that we were in the room, and started shooting down the doors. We had eventually killed them off when they broke through, and everything seemed quiet.
Then i'm looking at a guy standing near the window, and then--- an arrow grows out of his chest! He falls in dismay to the ground. One, two, three more are killed, until it's just me and this other girl in the room. We look at each other, and she books out the door. I follow her, and before we know it, we're outside in the sun, and then running through thick undergrowth for what seemed an eternity. When she finally stopped running, I collapsed from exhaustion.
There was a crashing through the undergrowth, and I was dragged a short distance to a broken down barn near a river. It was disgusting. There was garbage and children everywhere. I was brought into the barn and thrust into a chair. They were screaming at me in Spanish, and pointing guns in my face. They asked what I was doing in Mexico and asked me why I should live. Even in the dream, I was consciously thankful that I took 4 years of Spanish in High School. I responded in broken words that I should live because I could cook and clean and tend to the children. They backed down, and days passed. I grew fond of the children. A week passed. I cleaned up the camp. I learned they were Mexican Nationalists, planning to overthrow the government for the Zombie Virus outbreak.
Then, I woke up.
As the workday finally comes to a close, I put out my cigar and start to make my way home. I'm heading out a little later than I want to (40 minutes after close), but I'm okay with it; the company of Deb and Doug was too much just to walk away from. Doug has the greatest stories. As I start heading down Michigan Street, I can only picture myself from behind as I walk into the sunset. 14 blocks to go. 'Dramamine' by Modest Mouse comes on my Ipod. I get a text. It's Andy. The realization that we're having ribs for dinner tonight sets in as I read his message, "Where are you? I'm almost done grilling." Shit.. it's going to take a half hour to walk home, and i'm going to miss delicious spare ribs with the Sweet Baby Rays barbeque sauce that I like so much. I text him back, and take off my sandals; they only slow me down. The pavement is still warm from the cloudless day, and even though the pavement hurts my feet, the warmth feels great. I start to jog, I don't want to be late. I turn onto Fancher, and keep a nice rythym. Families are still out in their yards, oblivious to the drunken masses only a few blocks over. I cut a corner. The soft grass is much better than the now-cool pavement. 12 blocks to go. I start running just off the sidewalk. The impact is too much on my heels.
As I approach High Street (M-20), the traffic is suprisingly light for how many people came out of their caves to enjoy the weather. I cross with relative ease. I zigzag my way through the maze of suburbia, and enter the college housing. Just ahead there is a convenience store I never bothered to go into, despite the fact I've lived just a stone's throw away for 2 years. I throw my sandals on, and approach. A friendly welcome found my way to the cooler. I grab 2 liters of Diet Coke. $4.13 at the counter. The man working is a little older than me, and we make small talk. "Throw it on the card." We wish each other well. 7 blocks to go.
They seemed to pass in a blur. The sun has now set, and it's dark. I walk oblivious to the partying going on around me. Oblivious to the frat boy already passed out in a bush to the right. Oblivious the the girls walking by with the mini-skirts that would impress their fathers. Oblivious to the discarded cans and the 'all-too-epic' wreckage. The only thing on my mind is the music pumping through my ears, and the longing to get back to the dorm for a nice dinner (for once). 1 more block.
I cross the street to find my RHD and her husband Gabe on the front steps. They ask me what a moose sounds like. Their son looks up at me. I give it my best. They laugh, I continue. I make my way to the back lobby, and through the doors to where the grill is. Nobody is there, but I open the top of the grill anyway. The coals are still hot, and I can see the BBQ despite the darkness. I make my way upstairs, and everyone is waiting for me.
Just another day.
The 'beloved' Soulwinners are back on what seems the best two days that this year has had to offer. The past 2+ years they have gathered, preaching the Old Testament and telling people they're going to hell for not heeding the almighty God. People who supported gays--damned to hell. People who had sex before marriage-- damned to hell. People who do not attend church every Sunday-- damned to hell. The lady even damned CMU to hell after somebody yelled that CMU supports gays and lesbians. I believe, at one point, the Soulwinners told people that everyone who has died from a disease or in a national disaster were sinners and are in hell. "Only those who aren't Christlike obtain diseases." (according to the all knowledgeable God-talker-with-ers) One kid piped up and asked about his little cousin who was 2 and was diagnosed with cancer recently. The lady replied simply, "Tell her to repent." She's 2!! How does somebody who is 2 repent for their sins? The crowd of gawkers was in an uproar. At one point, the people gathered so closely and the debate so hot that they pushed their way out of the crowd and left because it was getting out of control. Every year they come, I get mad. Who are they to damn me to hell without even knowing me? I mean, I'm sure I've already paved a nice path downwards, but why go about damning people to hell. Why. I've never known anything that separates people as greatly as Religion does.
Is it just me, or is Religion absoultely insufferable?
It seems every time I try to go on a diet, on comes another holiday. It started when I got to school, but then there was Halloween. After gorging on candy, I thought it would be good to start then; but no, there was Thanksgiving, and my Dad got a Tur-duck-hen. After that it was too cold, and good old Xmas came, and I gorged on Xmas cookies (bad idea). Now that it's warmer, I thought working out would be great, but now there's freakin' Easter--and that candy lasts FOREVER. On top of it all, I have black lung like crazy, and little motivation to actually go to the gym. In fact, that bag of Butterfinger eggs look pretty damn good right now.
Thus starts a new chapter in my life: the blog.. and I don't know if any of my blatherings will have interest for anyone, to be fair. I plan to talk about myself, tell stories that don't go anywhere, talk about deeper issues and question them, and occasionally give one-sided opinions about movies. Now, keep in mind much of it will be parodical and ironic, so don't get all pissed off at what I write-- because Jesus knows you will at some point, but hey; there will be occasional laughs. And if you don't like it, keep in mind you don't HAVE to read what I have to say. In fact--no. Just go! Gerroutoferre! Captain "Piss-Pants McGee"--- Mister, "Oh, My Nose Is Too High In The Air To Level With You Or Ever See A Different Side Of The Issue Because I Keep My Shit In A Bowl To Keep The Air In The Room Fresh" guy. So you just off and skedaddle with all of your homework and better things to do. I'll try to write tomorrow.