If you're an antisocial shut-in like me, you might find it hard to make friends, at least one's who aren't named "Stranger."

But don't worry, Mr. Lonely, I'm sure there are people who would want to talk with you.  They might want to also want touch you in inappropriate places, but I guess it's better than nothing.

Of course if you want to make friends who will be with you through thick, thin, and letting you talk to them sometimes maybe when their other cool friends aren't around, then you have to take one of two paths.  However, there just seems to be something wrong with having to suck a guy’s dick in order to stop him from calling you ‘faggot,' so we'll skip to the higher route.

Step One: Be rich. People love rich kids. If you are rich, you can drive fancy cars so you can pick up chicks and then bang them in it later. Parent’s aren’t lawyers/doctors/astronauts? Well then, the least you can do for yourself is steal some fancy clothes to make yourself look good.

Step Two: Network.  Social network.  Get on MySpace (Facebook is for social whores who want to give out their friend invitations to anyone who wants it.  Don't fall for it.)  Make yourself sound interesting, rich, or hot.  Not hot? Then follow the next step.

Step Three:  Photoshop is your friend.  Give yourself some fancy 6 pack abs for your profile pic.  Take a pic of a popular guy surrounded by girls and paste your head on it.  'Accidentally' get a picture of your 10 inch penis spread across the internet. 
Step Four: Join in with your prospective friends and make fun of other people.  They were your friends at one point before you got addicted to World of Warcraft?  Nah, they didn't support your 18 hour a day gold farming business (which was fairly successful, to be honest, minus the sleep deprivation and dropping out of class.)  You don't need them anymore.  Your display of lack of morale standards will definitely make people like you.

Step Five:  If all else fails, go out and get to people yourself.  Go to every party, and bring beer, but don't drink any.  Do whatever, bang any chicks, secretly pee on those douches who passed out.  Can't dance?  Can't even talk to girls?  Don't worry, with everyone equipped with beer goggles, you will be the sober life of the party, and nobody will even remember it in the morning.  They might remember faintly of something totally killer happening the night before though, just tell them that was all you.  If they don't, well then just remember the one night you actually had a life...

The last time you were eating pizza (If you're into that type of thing), what did you think?  Did you think "Oh my god, this is mind rockingly awesome, like having an orgasm in my mouth?"  Or did you think, "America, this country that I live in, likes to take native foods from other countries, bastardize them, then try to sell them back to Americans and make them think it's genuine?"  Well that's what I thought. 

Let's take a closer look at pizza.  It comes from Italy.  Same place as pasta, breadsticks, and salads complete with those olives that you can fit on your fingers so you look like an alien [kind of].

Never mind, that's just from Olive Garden.  But Pizza is actually from Italy, I swear.  At least that what we're taught as kids.  Then again, how many people have actually been to Italy?  Does it even exist?  There's not possible way a country could look exactly like a boot- I call photoshop.

It doesn't matter, because we have pizza in this modern age, which makes everything good.  Unless you're talking about Hawaiian pizza.  That stuff is just gross.  And it's not even close to Hawaiian.  Pineapples?  I really doubt that all pineapples come from Hawaii.  That's like saying that the only fat people come from America.  Then there's the 'bacon.'  Never mind the fact that it's not real bacon, it's from Canada.  CANADIAN BACON.  On a pizza deemed to be HAWAIIAN.  Can you see anything wrong with this picture?
All the genuine traditional Italian pizza that I've had right here in the United States of Not Italy has like tomatoes and herbs on it, and topped with 17 different cheeses of which none I can pronounce.  They might even throw one some prosciutto, which is like Canadian bacon minus the shit, and with actual piggy goodness.  At a pizza place back where I lived?  There was one called the 'Smokehouse."  It was one of the greatest things to ever touch my taste buds and eventually to be shat out, but it was nothing like this. 

First off, the sauce was ranch and barbecue sauce- which is almost the exact same composition of the blood that runs through the veins of Americans.  Next, it had meat.  Lots of meat, because we have tons of land to grow up our animals big and fat before we cut them up and shove them down our gizzards.  Tiny girly countries can't afford this luxury, and therefore can't eat as much amazing protein to help them grow big and strong and have the ability to win wars.  Wars are won not on the backs of pigs, but on the bellies, right where the bacon is at.  Uh Rah.

So although we steal the native foods of other countries, we make them bigger, better, and overall more delicious.  Which is what counts.

It is known by only a select few people, but 8 o'clock actually comes around two times a day.  These sorts of people usually look like this:

The 8 o'clock of the wee morning hours should only be reserved for those who are willing to ingest large amounts of coffee.  And even then, they still have to figure out a way to function.  Just because you are awake doesn't mean you can or want to process information.

There is a wide margin of time between waking up and having adequate brain function to be in a socially acceptable state.  Between these two points, there are things like 'opening of eyes,' 'being able to keep them open,' 'hitting snooze 5 more times,' and various other things.  If I have to go to class at 8, I'm pretty much going to sleep until the last possible moment before getting ready.  There is no time for 'waking up.'  I don't care how many months you've been in a coma, if the first time you open your eyes happens to be early in the morning, you're going to shove your face back into the pillow and yell at the doctors to hold off on your sponge bath for 5 more minutes. 

I know people who are morning people.  No offense or anything, but I hate them.  So you biked briskly to class from the next town over after making yourself a soy turkey omelet for breakfast complete with freshly squeezed juice from fruit you picked yourself.  I really could care less.  Just don't be so damned peppy about it, and god forbid, don't try to get me to join in.
Classes at 8 are pretty much throwaway (unless it's like a class about sleep deprivation or an intro to coffee tasting class.)  Sucks that you registered too late.  If you are one of those 'overachievers' who wants to take 20 units a semester and can't fit in any more classes in the afternoon because that's when you have cello practice, then I don't feel sorry for you. 

The only thing worse than an 8 am class?  A 7 am class.  3 years of mornings spent as a Zombie.  Don't go to high school kids.  Drop out, sleep in, start a blog, and make money off of the ads.  If it worked for... oh wait, it didn't. 

There are two kinds of computer users. Ones who use them to make miracles and other lulz or otherwise productive things, and ones who break them the second they come into their possession.

No no no, don't do that!

My parents seem to fall into the second category. Most computers start out perfectly fine and mostly bug free (unless you’re buying a Compaq). Sure, Windows may slow down to a crawl after a while, but if you want it done a lot faster and a lot more efficiently, you can give it to one of these people.

I don't know how things turn from "checking e-mail" to "changing the default color scheme and the screen resolution into something awful" without knowing how they did it.  I didn't know what 'ctrl+x' did for the longest time, but my mom would somehow figure out how to do all that before a Google search even finished.  "It must be a virus."  No, it's not, you're just retarded.  Is what I'd like to say, if I didn't have to worry about getting grounded.

"Ok, what buttons did you press?" "All of them?"

Despite going to some of the sketchiest sites out there (*cough *4chan) and downloading pretty much every form of free or pirated software out there, I have never really had a really bad virus. Yet, my mom somehow seems to get those system dominating ones that won't let you do anything, all from, I don't know, visiting sites from Google search.  It makes me wonder what she actually uses her laptop for.

My dad once broke the power button on his brand new printer (which he even brought in and exchanged because of it.)  I don't even know how that happens.  Hardware problems like that are harder cause, unless you're trying to do random shit with stuff that stay put in the first place.  But I'm pretty sure hardware problems are tons harder to fix...

Is your hard drive running nice and quietly? Do you miss the awful clicking sound of a floppy disk trying to read all 200 megabytes of information stored on it? Well then, all your hard drive needs is a nice smack on the ground to create nice constant clicking and grinding sounds. You can even follow the rhytm with your fapping of the pixilated porn stored on said drive, if you can still read it that is...

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.