I once lived a cliche…

Recently, I was digging through my old-more-or-less-discarded photobucket account and I happened on to this:

What you see before you is documentation of a very real  ‘dog ate my homework’ scenario. This is the scene I was greeted with as I stumbled into my house (I think) my junior year of college. Our dog Napoleon (named after the diminutive RB for the Huskies, not the diminutive cheese eating, surrender monkey) decided that for too long the joke so old it gets into movies at half price needed a realistic grounding. Did I feel honored that I was chosen to share in this staging of a plot out of a wacky children’s book?

 

In short, no. Why, you may ask, under your breath so you don’t freak out people as the person talking to the monitor? Well, I’ll tell you. See those little blue scraps of paper? Yeah, well, that was my [yosemite sam] ragginfraggin math homework! [/yosemite sam] So no, I was not full of whimsy and lighthearted good naturedness. Do you see the other backpack right next to it? That is Grant’s and it is

UN-SCATHED.

For all I know, Napoleon could’ve wiped his down with a damp paper towel to get rid of the dirt that collects from grimy classroom floors. I mean, couldn’t he have feasted on both? The answer is sure, but the reality is he didn’t. To continue with the story, in my everlasting wisdom and smartassedness, I decided I was going to turn in my homework anyway. So that’s just what I did. I gathered every blue scrap left from the Canine Vs. Backpack Fracass of 2000something and I put into a ziploc baggie and brought it to class the next day. The teacher came around to collect, I tried to hand her the bag and she wouldn’t take it. I explained my situation. She chuckled and actually gave me the credit for the masticated homework! So in the end, it all worked out. Though I don’t know if I can say the same for Napoleon… Get it? In the end? Worked out? Yeah, me either.

 

Here’s me and the culprit kickin’ it, BEFORE the incident. He’s dead now. I killed him. With a knife. JUST KIDDING. He’s living happily in Utah with fond memories of my tasty, tasty math homework.

A metal cock and a time machine...

Pre-Script: I love my roommate. He's one of the most giving, caring individuals I've ever ran across on this crazy little blue and green orb I call 'Erf.' But the dudes aesthetic choices? DAMN. Just DAMN.

With that said, our household recently received two new additions courtesy of the roommate's parental units. Addition #Eins:

No, my friends. You're eyes don'st deceive thee. That is a 2 foot

SHARP.

METAL.

COCK.

With glowing yellow eyes. I call him 'Sharpy McCockFace', but don't tell him that cause, well... he could quite literally kill me. The only way you could make your living room more life threatening then ours is right now is if you were to, like, attach some nunchuks to a ceiling fan or use a lion as an ottoman. I wouldn't recommend either one, but then again I also wouldn't recommend having a giant scrap metal chicken in your living room either. Call me crazy, but I think he is slowly moving from the spot we put him at. And, his eyes move. I have my fingers crossed he didn't get inhabited by some roaming evil spirit of a Mongol warrior or some shit. While that would make a GREAT movie, it would be a horrible reality for me.

The second piece is so bad that I was convinced he was joking when he suggested we take it from their storage space. It makes that piece of steel poultry above look like a DaVinci in comparison. Without further adieu, #deux:

I was dead honest with him. I said, 'Dude, we can hang this in our house. I don't have a problem with it. But know this - EVERY person that walks into our place will laugh uncontrollably when they come upon this beauty. If you're cool with that, then lets roll with it." Because, lets be honest here, folks. If this thing was anymore 80's it would be a TIME MACHINE to the 80's. Like, you could just hop into it and warp ala Mario Bros. 64. Where do I even start? The frolicing orcas? The marble frame that looks like it was a leftover set piece for 'Secret Of My Success' starring a young Michael J. Fox? I don't really think you guys can see the true freshness that this frame embodies. Here's a closer look:

Thats right. Not one, not two but THREE lines of gold foil inlay. That is baller shit, right there. This picture has gold, marble and orcas. It could buy and sell you. It would hire you as its assistant and all you would do is count its money and make it panini's when it wanted them.

So, it's currently nestled away in the roommate's room. I think he was a little hurt by my words as it's apparently a family-sentimental value kinda thing. But friends are supposed to be honest. If you let a friend hang up this picture and don't warn him of the joke that will be made at its expense. You're an asshole.

This has been a P.S.A. from the 'Be honest with your friends when it comes to horrid fuckin furniture they may want to add to your living space' coalition.

Welcome.

So, here we are. Well, here you are. I'm probably not here while you are visiting. Unless, I'm in some real sycophantic mood reading my own musings. I hope not. I really do. Shit, that's actually pretty likely. Narcisissim 2.o, forreal! Amiright?

This is my first official attempt at a blog. I've made others, but they never saw the light of day for an abundant number of very good reasons. I know, I know... you already read a hundred blogs a day. Make it one hundred and one. Btw, you ever seen '101 Dalmations'? That is a very under-rated Disney movie. And pretty damn racist. (Editors note: I was thinking of 'Lady and the Tramp') But I digress. This blog is about me writing stuff. I will not be sharing links, or ROFLcopter youtube vids. There's plenty of those out there, find them and LOL til your heart can't take it no more. This is for me to squeeze my mind grapes and bottle the juice. Kinda like Howard Hughes, but with less urine. Welcome.