Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be in an anime.  I could choose to be some mech pilot, or have powers to fight crime and do random shit to people, or even be surrounded by tons of girls who would fight over me.  You know, all the things that could never happen in real life (especially number 3).  But then I remembered what age groups all of the people who take these roles are:  teenagers.

Being twenty means I no longer have the suffix -teen at the end of my age.  As I've always said, you can fix just about any problem by throwing enough acne ridden, sexually frustrated, and mentally unprepared teenagers at it.  But what good does a twenty-year old do, experienced with adult responsibility, not to mention the ability to make decisions rationally with one's brain rather than the libido.  Logic is the enemy of success, especially in settings where the person who can yell the loudest is often the winner. Besides, who has to be around to pay taxes to fix all the shit that these kids go and destroy.  Freaking brats on my lawn.

Even outside of anime, I can no longer have my own slice of life introduction, where I get to stand in front of the class and write my name on the board, then spout something stupid that everyone will remember.

You better keep good on this one.

There are no self introductions in college, only the mutual awkwardness shared by a large group of strangers, hoping that you won't get paired up with that "one guy" for the group project.  You're lucky if you meet one person in your classes.  I will never be able to be known as "the transfer student."  At the very best, I could be "that white guy..." 

Well, it's that time of the year again, and Christmas has come and gone.  I bet you enjoyed getting some nice pairs of socks from aunt Bertha, right?  Probably. But what about the rest of the holidays?  Did you enjoy those too?  Nope, cause Christmas sucks.

Now don't start lookin' at me saying, "Ah, look at this humbug."  You know Christmas is the worst time of the year.  Don't get me wrong, I love getting presents and stuff.  You probably thought I was just some spoiled kid or something. Well,that's not the point of Christmas is it, you fat money slave?  Christmas is about food, family, and joy to the world.  That's what I hate.

Let's roll back about three weeks (or three posts, if you actually still read this blog.) Winter holiday number one, Thanksgiving.  Take the overwhelming feeling of being stuffed to the brim with dry turkey and mashed potatoes, then copy and paste that to December.  There's Christmas dinner, as well as dinner for the next week or two, depending on how many people stay at your place to mooch for their entire vacations.  What is the point of such a huge meal twice a year?  Oh ya, America (do I really have to go any further?).  Does anybody actually like turkey?  Or is it just that we are so stuck on the idea that we need to kill a bunch of ugly birds and feast upon their tasteless flesh because that's what our ancestors did? 

Something about that unnaturally colored dangly thing makes me want to eat it.

I don't know, but I'm sure none of them had access to a deep fryer, which is the only way that would make a whole turkey taste good.  You can make anything delicious with plenty of fat.

While trying to keep your lardy eyelids open while under the effects of all that tryptophan, you're then forced to open presents.  Free stuff, cool, cool.  But Santa didn't magically make this and shit it out under your tree (sorry kids).  Someone had to wade through crowds of people, punching multiple solar-plexi trying to get you this gift.  This is proof of their love for you.  If they got you something like socks or a sweater, you are nothing to them. 

Don't even mention the fact that you have to go to church.  Luckily, Christmas fell on a Sunday this year, so we only had to go once, if at all.  So what if it's Christ's birthday.  The only place people go to on my birthday is the Red Robin.  If anything we should be going to a manger or barn or something to celebrate.  We don't go back over to Spain and enslave the natives there on Columbus's birthday, do we?

At least the decade old Christmas songs that have been playing on every radio station for the past three weeks have stopped.  Now we can look forward to the stores putting out all the Easter candy within the week!

College is all about finding yourself.  Finding out how much money you can spend on random crap you don't need before running out of money.  Finding out how much you can drink before having a night stuck face-in-toilet.  Finding out how many girls you can sleep with before you catch something.  But most of all, how much sleep you actually need.  Or at least how much one can survive on while still being able to respond when the teacher calls on you.

Sleep: 1 Osaka: 0

After one of my finals, specifically for my dreaded 8 am class, my teacher took me outside and said something along the lines of how I'd slept through most of her class.  Whatever, I wasn't really listening, I just wanted to go back to my bed.  She asked if I had work during the night time which would have kept me up, which is sort of true, depending on what you call "work."  Dealing with roommates who won't shut up is, in fact, hard work. 

Most of the time I went to bed around 12, and although I'm not any good at math, is less than a full night's sleep if you plan to be productive the next day.  But we've already seen how productive I can be, haven't we? 

There's nights, such as ones after the midnight release of Call of Duty Modern Warfare 3, where you don't really want to sleep.  At that point there is balance that needs to be maintained.  The balance between how much you can get accomplished that night versus the amount of caffeine it will take to last you until you can come home and crash after your classes are over with.  Then there is always the worry you will become nocturnal permanently, which doesn't bode well for any social life one would have during the daylight hours.

We just finished eating our turkey and shit, and stores have put out the Christmas stuff already.  Not that anybody cares, we still have finals before we can even start thinking about the holidays.  You're not going to get gifts anyways, lonely bastard.

But it doesn't matter, because all of this means that it's the end of November.  No, not the beginning of December.  What happened in November?  Lots and lots of hair.  No shave November.  I think it has something to do with prostate cancer, but it's really just an excuse to be lazy and keep your face warm.

But beards get long, unruly, and rough, and frankly, resting your head on your arm begins to suck during long hours of class.  So unless you're Justin Bieber, then you've been waiting for the end for a long, itchy time.

I normally shave in order to not look like a pedophile or a no lifer, but for this entire month I had my poor excuse for mutton chops, a dirty sanchez, and a bunch of pubic-hair looking stuff on my chin.  Ya, I bet you're jealous.

Nose clean, check.

Also I have a big bald spot under my chin, but it's OK because unless I'm staring at the sky, nobody will notice how bad and patchy my facial-hair is.

Come tomorrow, my face will be nice and smooth, and ready to be touched by lots of girls.  Just for your information, most of them don't like them, so put it away Santa Clause.

Just like my Pedo Bear Halloween, I'm repeating the same things about holidays that I posted about last year at the same time they rolled around.  I don't remember what I posted about Thanksgiving last year, nor do I care enough to go look it up (especially back then when I was still struggling to make funnies like a back alley whore struggles to make coke deals). It probably included something about how it's the American way to make a holiday about eating, based around the fact that a long, long time ago, we did something bad to a group of people with a different color of skin, but we made it up to them by letting them make food for us and hoping it wasn't poisoned.

There are two people who participate in Thanksgiving.  People who like to overeat and watch football, and people who like to overeat.  I don't care much for football, so when people are cooking food, I either have to help out, or sit and watch drunken people cheer at poor peons who have to run around working during a vacation.  Whether these are the players on the field or the women in the kitchen depends on how drunk they are. 

I don't know about everyone here, but I really don't care for turkey.  Or any meat really, that has been touched by my mother.  It either turns out dry or greasy.  The greasy stuff goes down easier, but much like a sink, it is hard to get out of the "pipes".  The only really good thing about turkey is the Tryptophan, or as I like to call it, faticide.  It will give you the hunger to eat what everyone really wants from Thanksgiving, mashed potatoes.  Really, what is there besides pie and that canned cranberry sauce that can stand up to mashed potatoes?  Nothing. 

There are four people living in my dorm suite (5 if you count the guy who we only see once every 2 weeks). Then there are two people who pretty much live over here, which entails pretty much everything but them sleeping here. Between all of us, we use a lot of dishes. We use a lot, but none of us have a lot of time (or interest) for doing them.

Where is the dish washer?  Hint: there is more than one in this picture.

For four of the people here, they come home one day and the sink is magically empty, ready for more victims of ramen and hot pockets. For me, I am the one cleaning mold off week old plates. I’m not really acting like everyone’s bitch, it’s just that I like doing dishes. It’s kind of calming in the storm of tests, zombie killing, and drunk girls. Plus my mom inadvertently trained me to like doing them a certain way, and I can’t say all the other people here would do them to my standards. Or at all.

The main problem with dishes is that sinks have other uses rather than dish holder. Since we have no dish washer (other than me) they generally just sit there and gather mold in the moist costal air of Humboldt County. Unfortunately, a full sink holds about a half of our total dishes, so even when it’s full, people can still access clean stuff to plaster their grease on, and put off doing the dishes for one more day.

So what would happen if suddenly no more clean dishes would appear each week? My experiment is to see what would happen if I stopped doing the dishes. Would they get done? Would everyone revert to purely eating out? I don’t know, earlier I had to drink water out of a bowl like a dog, which might say something. It did tell me to get off my butt and do the dishes, which means the cycle is now back at the beginning. I guess I’ll see, and post results when something finally breaks. Whether it’s the garbage disposal or my roommates, I don’t know.

Sink as of now.

Next will be my laundry to see how long I can go before people start noticing my body odor.

Ah freshman.  You know, I spent my freshman (and sophomore) years of college a community college at home, where I was still sheltered and had consequences for staying up until 4 am and eating junk food until my teeth fell out.  I didn't even think about drinking, because my mom would beat the hell out of my ass and take my computer and throw it out in the street and have the landlord block up the internet and so on.  Freshmen who go straight off to college, however, don't have a v-chip on their life however.

"I'm a bad parent, so I'll just let technology raise my children."

Such is the case of one of my suite-mates, who decided to make jello shots using alcohol from some undisclosed source with some of her friends.  This may just be the old man in me talking, but I think there may be some risk in that, but then again, they didn't break anything.  I just hope none of the advisers look in our trash that is currently full of tons of little paper cups.

I do happen to be the oldest oldest one here in my suite at 20 years old, which feels odd, and also which scares me.  I am the old man.  The old man who is going to be old enough to buy them alcohol legally next semester. (Legally for me, not for them.  Buying alcohol for minors is, in fact, not legal.  That's a problem for later though.) As for them, they are currently out somewhere, probably building upon their jello shots.

I don't really care if they are drinking, I'm not their mom.  I don't even really care if they are drunk.  I do care if they try to get me involved though.  Cleaning up vomit is not one of my things.  However, the idea of drunk girls in my apartment is interesting, and once again, scary.  I mean, what if one of them wants to do me!?

Thus is my conundrum.  I don't want to take advantage of a drunk girl, no matter how desperate or lonely I am.  Unless they had a hinting of wanting to do me while sober.  No no no.  But they wouldn't remember it.  I would use protection.  What if I got drunk too?  No no no.  Then I wouldn't remember it.  Ah, I think I'm just going to lock myself in my room tonight...

It's that time of year again, where I realize I'm too old and have too many cavities to keep going out Trick or Treating.  But I go anyways, mostly to see how many people recognize Pedo Bear, and how many of those people are concerned parents who would like to see me not giving away "free candy" to their kids out of my van dorm room.

Lazy College Student uses same mask.

Sadly, nobody actually trick or treats at the dorms, because everyone knows poor college kids would give out the shittiest candy.

Thanks, 'man'.

That's why me and my college friends are going out to get free candy instead, because you're honestly never too old to run around dressed like freaks (or sluts) and get free candy.  At least until you have kids of your own, which is just creepy.  It's funny (and sad) how much Halloween changes between childhood and somewhat-not-child-anymore-hood. 

As Children:
Boys: I want to be something scary, like Dracula, or a pirate, or a mummy. 
Girls: I want to be a princess, or a fairy, or a princess.

As Teens:
Girls:  I want to be a princess or a fairy, with fishnets and miniskirts.
Guys:  I want to check out the girls and scare little kids.

As Adults:
I'm going to feel this in the morning.

Parents try to cut back on trick or treating as you get older, not just because over time the costumes get more extravagant, expensive, and not to mention slutty, but because you have no more baby teeth left, and they will be paying for your dentist bill. 


While we're on the topic of extravagant Halloween costumes, Let's talk about some not-so good ones:

The Human Centipede: You may get three times the candy, but it's also gonna get three times as long before you get to eat it.  It might also be a little digested.

Old Cosplay:  I thought of using my old costume from an anime convention, but then again I won't be at a convention.  I'll just be a Japanophilic nerd in a possibly racist town.

Irony:  So you realized it was the day before Halloween, and that you didn't have a costume, huh?  Sucks for you that no one will give you candy without a costume.  Being a nudist on strike doesn't work either.

Internet Meme costume:  Once again, You're not on the internet, you're in real life.  Nobody will get it.  Except for Pedo Bear, because he is awesome.  And possibly because he is on a watch-list for possible criminals.

It's been too long since you heard from me about my crazy roommates and horrible diet choices that include the name "Denny's" here from everyone's favorite stoner school.  So here's another Humboldt Hijinks.

I love orange juice.  I could drink it forever.  I don't particularly like oranges, just the juice.  Except after you brush your teeth.  That's just gross.

Despite the closest store on campus being down several flights of stairs and a large hill which is required to climb to return and enjoy our ice cold goodness, me and my roommates go down almost every night to buy drinks.  It's worth it, since they sell half gallon jugs of orange juice, just enough to quenche my thirst for one anime marathon.  Or for at least an hour or two.  (That's why I bought more.)

But soon that got expensive.  I don't know how much vitamin c is too much, but I'm pretty sure I was reaching the limit.  That, or if I continued it, the one day I didn't drink any I would develop the worst cold of my life. 

Of course you can't have orange juice without alcohol.  One night, my roommates decided to go out drinking.  Let me add that it was on a school night, and my roommate can only handle 4 glasses (of wine) before he starts speaking in slurred Vietnamese and crying about why nobody understands why he doesn't like onions.

In order to avoid having to deal with two drunk people before having an 8 am class in the morning, I decided to sleep over at another (sober) friend's place.  But before that, I set a trap.  My alarm clock is pretty much the worst sounding thing in the world.  You can stand it if you can shut it off in the first ten seconds, but I usually sleep through that, as well as the next two snoozes.  My roommates have learned to hate it a lot.  So the night before leaving, I "forgot" to turn it off.  And then I hid it, so inebriated people couldn't either.  I think they liked their wake up call.

If you can't tell, they found it.  And lynched it.

Still waiting for when they decide to get me back.

There are some things you only see a few times in your life.  Child birth.  A black person being elected president.  Someone who can lick their own elbow.  For an anti-social internet lurker like myself, it's two girls making out.

I had different expectations about what I would see and do when I went off to college.  I wondered how many crazy 'drink until you puke up your guts' parties I would get invited to.  I wondered how many of those parties would include me standing at the wall like a blind person watching a magic show, being the designated driver.  I wanted to know the feeling of laughing at people going to an 8 a.m. class, hung over and high from the night before.  I wanted to know how many of these parties would include random drunk girls making out.  Well, I haven't gotten invited to any parties, but I haven't needed to.

Take away the makeup, that's me.

Every girl says to their other girlfriends "If I were like, a total lezbo, I would like, totally do you. *hic*"  When girls do this, it's a compliment.  If you're hot enough to make members of the same sex interested in you, then you've got it goin' on.

Good job, Bieber.

If a guy says something like this to a girl, as in "Damn bitch, you fine, I would totally do you," it's called being a rude pervert, and you get a swift kick in the groin.  If a guy tells another guy that he would do him, then it's just outright violating the bro code and that is totally not brokay.  But this blog isn't about liking the opposite sex, it's about kissing, which has nothing to do with love.

Let's set the scene.  Take two bi-curious girls, and make them roommates, and then include me and my roommate ignoring them so the only refuge they have is each other(really, who would be interested in us?)  Let their curious nature take over for a month or two, then bore the shit out of them by playing Call of Duty for several hours one night.  Like wild animals in heat, their instincts will take over.  As for my roommate and myself, our instincts as lonely college students will also take over, and we will grow the patience to wait out for whatever happens.  And happen it did.

I blame would like to thank Katy Perry for making the whole lipstick lesbian cool.  I mean, who wouldn't want a little taste of some cherry chapstick (and maybe a bit of their tongue?)

Edit: I thought I would add this:

Back in High School, in order to skip a class, you either had to fake a note from your parents, or get home before the school called your house about the classes you had missed, if you actually had teachers who cared enough to take attendance.  Then if you wanted to leave campus to go smoke pot or whatever the cool kids did, you had to somehow clear the prison-like fences and security guards who usually have nothing better to do than take cell-phones. 

Here in college however, we actually can choose to fail and burn our several thousand dollar education ourselves, and just skip class whenever.  So that's what we did the other day.

Ferris would be proud.

It's not that any of our classes are throw-away, or even easy enough that you can just learn everything from the book.  It just they're early, and it's far better to sleep in your bed than in the back of the room, head propped up against whatever is there, conveniently wearing shades.

Clever, until someone calls on you.

Just kidding, I wouldn't pay a dollar for that.

As the proverb goes "Girls go to Jupiter to get more stupider, Boys go to college to get more knowledge."  Well luckily for me, most girls actually went to college, and like most some boys, they have matured.  And grown boobs.  And now they tend to hang out in my room.

It sounds a lot better than it actually is.  Girls are distracting, and not just with boobs flashing everywhere.  Case in point why I'm on the internet instead of reading the libraries upon libraries of pages I'm assigned.

Believe me, if I caught even a glace of a boob once in a while (or a lesbian make out scene, or random skinny dipping, or impromptu orgy) I wouldn't be on the internet even half as much.  But the girls decided that I was posting about my asian roommate too much and not fawning over them. 

I was asked to include my feelings about lesbian urges and sad feelings for them, but I think everyone knows about my urges to make sweet love to women, and then cry about it after, like I had just guiltily eaten a big pint of chocolate ice cream by myself (which I actually just did, with the help of one of them- indirect kissing ftw.)

Men may be from Mars, and Women may be from Venus, but when it all comes down to it, we all have to come down to Earth sometime and meet up, whether it be in the form of stalking, raping, casual one night stands, or the very rare "relationships."  After all that, as men, there are always going to be women watching from behind your back, making sure that your blog posts are not slandering them (even though it is.)





(Save me.)

It's a 3 day weekend, so that means I can pretty much do nothing.  I don't even know what holiday it is, or who died or was born so that I could skip class legally, but I could care less about researching it.  I can be lazy all I want.  Not just the regular "not go to class" lazy, because on a three day weekend you have an extra day to recover from it.  This is like a "sit on the couch and eat Cheetos off my stomach while my butt conforms to the cushions" lazy.

Friday can pretty much count towards the weekend for college kids like me (if you don't have an 8 am class on that day.)  So what did me and my roommates do, being under 21?  We played Monopoly.  It starts out a nice fun game, paying shitty rent for staying on some property that is probably nothing more than a dirt lot.  If you happen to be lucky and be the first person to land on one of the good spaces on the last side of the board first, then the game starts tumbling into a downward cycle of rage.

"Fuck your hotel on Park Place!  I quit."

Never mind the fact that my roommate is Asian as well as a business major, and whether that has any effect on the outcome of the game (hint: it did) someone is going to get screwed, and someone is going to end up with all the 500 dollar bills in the bank.  Well, after 4 hours of yelling at each other for landing on free parking and praying to land on "Go to Jail" so you don't have to pass 4 blocks of hotels, we finished.  At 3 am.  So instead of going to bed like normal people, we went and did the only thing you can do at that time of the night: we went to Dennys.

If we weren't sleep deprived enough from the night before, we decided to stay up all night and marathon anime.  No, it wasn't my dream of watching all 500+ episodes on One Piece in one sitting.  We did, however, marathon all 26 episodes of Claymore, which for people who have never done so, involves sitting and watching for over 10 hours straight.  Unfortunately, we didn't have any Cheetos, but I'm sure that some of the chair cushions are firmly molded into the shape of our buttocks. 

The best thing?  I still have two more days.  I'll probably go to the beach, and do stuff like lay in the sand and be even more lazy.  Then finally do all the extra work that was assigned me because we have an extra day to do it.  Oh wait, crap.

So with my moving out of my shitty hometown and into a new college full of awesome and random people, I start a new chapter in my life. So I thought I would change up how this blog works as well. I’m going to make formal crap shorter- that being said, "It came from YouTube" no longer exists- I’m just going to post funny YouTube videos when I find them. Posts are going to be less regular, but longer and probably more funny to make up for it.

The dorm building I live in is called Laurel. I think it’s supposed to be named after a tree or something, but it can also mean butt. I think I’m the only one immature enough to make that connection. It’s also the international living area so there’s ton of people with culture. And they speak languages that I don't. With all these roommates, suitemates, and new friends that I’ve been forced into acquaintance with, I’ve had tons to deal with. Including everything Asian.

Don’t get me wrong, I love all things Asian. That might just be the fact that everything I know about Asia is learned from anime, but I’m still technically in the age range for being able to save the world if some weird shit were to happen. My roommate is a fake Asian (meaning he was born here in the ‘America’ but he speaks Vietnamese so I guess he fits.) Then there’s me, the Asian wanna-be, and then one more guy who went to Vietnam once, which is more than I can say for myself. Then there's the two girls, one of which has indeterminable race simply because we can't ask while she's on the phone or being hit on, which is always. Finally is Mrs. China.

Her name is spelled "Mangqi," which by English pronunciation is "Mankey."

Yes, Pokémon jokes have been made.  No, we haven't been so horrible as to say it in front of her.  Nor have we actually said her actual name in front of her because none of us know how to pronounce it correctly.  Needless to say, between the lot of us we have a lot of rice and chopsticks.  As well as an entire drawer in our kitchen devoted to packets of spicy looking things with unreadable moon runes all over them. 

But seriously, all of my roommates are hilarious and fun people, most likely the reason why I haven't been posting much lately.  I'll be sure to record more random happenings here for more Humboldt Hijinks.

Well, I lied.  No, not about going off to college to get smurter.  I wouldn't wake up at 8 am to make a joke post.  My sleep schedule is more important than my trolling schedule.  I lied about no Troll Cave this weekend. I didn't expect to have internet this weekend, let alone access to a computer.  Luckily I was able to commander my mom's laptop (making up for all the times my own room got taken over because of relatives.)

Driving over twisty turny roads in the mountains was fun, in a sort of 'first time playing racing game' type of way.  And I don't mean the simulation types, which you would assume are sort of like actually driving a car.  It was more like those racing games in an arcade where if you make one wrong twitch you will bounce back and forth off both sides of the road until you are in last place and smashing the screen.

Also, there are a lot of roundabouts around the college.  At least I'll get to walk or ride my bike instead of drive.  I promise this blog will stop being my diary and go back to the good old trolling shit after I get moved into my dorm.

You may be wondering why I'm posting really early.  Like, really, really, early.  It's before noon even, this is bad.  Anyways, I am moving over to college this weekend, so I have to finish packing the rest of my room, which currently holds only this computer.  Fun Stuff.

This means no Troll Cave this weekend.  If you still want to be trolled, try some 4chan or something, I heard there might be some trolls over there.  I'll be back sometimes next week, that is if I don't crash my car driving through crazy mountain passes, get smothered in my sleep by my roommate the first night, or worse, have my computer get broken in the move.  See you!

Adding to the list of "reasons why I hate this horrible town" is traffic circles, or roundabouts. No, not ones that aliens leave behind. Unless you count the illegal aliens who the city hires to build them.

I really wouldn't care less if they were at least subtle about them. They built one a while ago on a road I often take. The second I saw it, I thought to myself "I'm going to pop this baby into 4 wheel drive and go right over the top." But then they put huge boulders all around the hill in the middle, probably because some lucky idiot got there before me.

Now with traffic circles inside of other traffic circles.

Now I have to settle with having to downshift and drift around the outside like boring people.  I bet if I had one of those Korean imports instead of my Chevy Blazer (which is back up and running btw) I could totally burn some rubber.

If one roundabout is good, then a second one right down the road must be great, right?  No.  Especially not at a real intersection, where lots of drivers, most of which are bad, go through every day.

Here in California, traffic circles are included in driver's training.  Not that anybody remembers it the second after you peel yourself off the passenger window when the G-forces stop.  Who do I yield to?  How many times do I have to go around?  What is so wrong with a stop sign that makes it completely inferior to this (hint: nothing).

There's no arrow that points outwards!  Where do I go?

Back to the second roundabout the city is building, just down the road from the first one.  Up until now, it has been a 4 way intersection.  So how do you get a circular roadway into an area that started as a square?  Answer: Eminent domain your way in, screwing any people who happen to live on the corners, and lop of the corner of their yard.

The whole thing goes back to a round peg in a square hole.  Back when all the autistic babies were color coding and numbering their building blocks, we were still trying to figure this one out (We were able to talk though.).  Roads are rectangular-ish, cars are too (some more than others.)

I'm looking at you, Scion.

Lots of land are also sold in - get this - quadrilateral formations.  It's like a pizza box- the pizza might be round, but the box isn't, which makes it a bitch to throw it away in the also round trash can.  [If you're poor like me, you might also pay the delivery guy only using coins, which are also round.]

Then comes the matter of what goes in the center.  A nicely decorated, tire inviting hill of expensive landscaping?  I think we already know the answer to that.  How about a big-ass fountain?  A viewing platform to go and see little people driving big cars around in circles for hours and hours?  Maybe just a sign stating how a traffic circle is supposed to work.

One day I just want to take my friends in their cars and just drive around in it.  All the poor law-abiding people will just have to wait their turn to merge into our everlasting circle of fun.  The only thing that could make it funner?  If it was a figure eight, with lanes crossing in the middle.

All in all, I've known that circles were risky business ever since I started playing Minecraft.  But at least I'll be long gone before it even gets finished.

So in about a week, I'll be headed off to college (you probably guessed that by now.)  I'm actually going off to real college- not community "let's pretend this isn't just like high school all over again" college.  Which probably means I won't have as much time to spend here trolling people.  And not just because I'm off banging chicks.

I don't know how busy I'll be, or even if I'll remember how to speak English with all the French classes I'll be taking.  I've kept a pretty good schedule up till now, but I'll probably have to cut back with less posts.  To make it up I'll probably make them longer, even thought I'll still be writing them as I come up with them.

I still haven't told my to-be roommate about my blog yet.  I don't want him to request a room change because he thinks I'm a psychopath.  I'm totally not.  He's Asian, and probably is really smart and cooks good, so I don't want to lose him.  He's also probably going to kick my ass with his Asian ninja skills when he reads this, too.  Sorry, Steven.  I'm a troll.

Living without my mom breathing down my neck will probably be fun, even though I barely know how to cook, do laundry, wash dishes, and probably breath for myself.  I don't even know where to go shopping for ramen and shit over there.  At least my car is fixed and I have a way to drive away at high speeds if things go bad!  Wish me luck!

College is a place for many things, like new opportunities and new experiences, and for seeing the same things over and over.  Or for just getting stoned.

College.  Studying.  Sex.  Alcohol.  Drugs.  Whoa, that digressed fast.  The days of sex, drugs and rock and roll are over- all we have now is aids, crack and techno.  Except while you're still in college.  Old is the new new- complaining about how you hate your parents while mirroring the same things they did when they were your age is the 'thing' to do.  They might not remember the awesome keggers or hot-boxes they took part in, but if they did remember it, they would end up just trying to stop you.

I'm heading off to college in a couple of weeks to Humboldt State, which is well known for.. well, pot.  Everytime I say I'm going there I get asked if I'm going to become a pothead.

Probably... not?

I've never taken drugs before, but I can't help but wonder what it would be like.  Listening to trance?  That's totally like LCD LSD right? Sometimes if I run around in a circle really fast, or stand up after sitting on my ass all day, I start to black out like I was completely drunk.  I even walk like a drunk if my foot happens to be asleep from all that sitting.  Maybe I could totally hallucinate and have a chance to talk to my ancestors or something, or just totally drift out of reality all together.

Nah, I think I'll stay sober and go out and bang some chicks study.

It's summer.  Unless you live in the southern hemisphere, you upside-down freak. (Gravity, how does it work?)  Anyways, it's hot here.  And I still have like 2 weeks left in this god-forsaken town before I head off to college on the coast where the contents of my car won't turn into things comparable with other really hot things like the sun and lava.

Lava pool featuring Penelope Cruz.  Which is hotter?

I never remember the heat bothering me as a kid, and I've lived here all my life (another reason to want to burn all of it to the ground.)  I think I know the point at which the sun suddenly decided to make me hate going outside, or even moving my body for that matter.  It was the point my balls dropped.

The term 'hot as balls' actually means something.  While the human body is 98.6 degrees F (what, that's like 600 for you Celsius users?) testicles hang away from the body in order to protect their precious cargo.  Balls, in fact, do have a measurable temperature.  Whatever lucky guy they tested to get this information, I do not know.

The hotter it is, the farther away from the body the scrotum expands, allowing them to "breathe."  This can be augmented by wearing mesh shorts, or  standing on top of a fan with said shorts on.  Not that I'm telling you how to rustle your jimmies, that's up to you.

Balls also change when it's cold.  It can sometimes be referred to as "shrinkage."  Which brings me to my next point.  I can't take a cold shower even when it's burning hot.  It's like a cat, they don't like water because they look smaller when their fur is wet, and therefor they are less intimidating.  So I end up taking a hot shower, not only to avoid that "I'm dying of hypothermia I can't breath" feel, but also to protect myself if someone should happen to initiate a naked shower attack like in Psycho.  Or if my mom happens to walk in.