random thoughts

Hmmm, collegebeing on speed week. Well, I’m not as good as Chris at finding amusing videos, but here’s a few things that have been consuming my thoughts of late.

  • People who ask for your “autograph” when they need you to sign a receipt. Is it just me, or does anyone else find this incredibly aggravating? The first time or two I heard it (you know, when I was about ten) it was slightly amusing. Now it just pisses me off. Unless you’re actually going to keep (or try to sell on eBay) the merchant copy of the receipt from the shitty fast-food place where I eat lunch every day, don’t ask me for my autograph. I’m not famous. I’m not important. I’m a 20-year-old computer technician who works across the street and comes in so that I have 45 minutes away from my idiot boss. I’m getting a fucking hamburger, not holding a press conference. Please, cut this stupid shit out.
  • I’m a fan of the band Anti-Flag, but some of their song titles are way too long for punk songs. “State Funeral” or “Stars and Stripes” are an appropriate length. “The WTO Kills Farmers” is pushing it; song titles should be a name, not a declarative sentence. As for “When You Don’t Control Your Government, People Want to Kill You,” what in the hell? There are 11 words and a comma in the title of one fucking song. Seriously guys, keep it to four or five maximum.
  • I really don’t care about cars. At all. Sure, I’ll admire an old Mustang or something, but why does every male friend I have insist on talking about the engine stats of any car they see? They’re not even gearheads; they drive Corollas and Grand Ams and work in video stores and computer repair shops. Why is there an assumption that every guy in the universe gives a shit about the engine of a Subaru WRX?
  • I don’t understand Japanese culture, and I’m fairly certain that most Americans who claim to do so are either pretentious or idiots. Possibly both. Anime, for the most part, makes no fucking sense whatsoever to white people from Utah. Stop claiming to understand it.
  • Politicians should be forced to at least define anything that they sponsor legislation on. Sex toys are not related to kiddie porn, and a barrel shroud is not a “thing that goes up.” Believe whatever you want to believe about politics, but they should try not to make it so patently obvious that they care a lot less about issues than votes.
  • Hot Pockets are fucking amazing.
  • I think people who are so fat that their legs will no longer support their weight should be confined to their homes until such time as they lose enough weight to walk or one of their heart attacks finally kills them. And don’t give me this shit about how some people are genetically predisposed toward obesity. While that’s true, I suspect that in most cases of that degree of obesity, your inability to walk has less to do with your genes than it does with your nonstop consumption of Twinkies and Ben and Jerry’s. There is no genetic advantage to being so fucking fat that you literally cannot move. And obesity should not be a handicap. Fat people should not be allowed to park closer to the store. If anything, there should be special fatass spots at the back of the parking lot so that you have to walk a half-mile to get into the Walmart and buy your disgusting snacks. How do people even allow themselves to get this fat? A beer belly or a few extra pounds is one thing, but how do you not, at some point before your leg bones give out, look in the mirror and think, “Jesus Christ, I’m fucking disgusting! Maybe I should cut back to five cheeseburgers a day”?
  • Speaking of fat people, the only women who have hit on me in recent months have been 17 years old and 300 pounds, respectively. I’m not sure whether this is more amusing or depressing. In any case, I’m not a big fan of getting arrested for statutory rape, and I’m not a big fan of the “pick a fold and go” method of sexual intercourse.
  • Drama is even more ridiculous when overheard. When I’m sitting in the Arctic Circle at lunch, trying to avoid the flirtations of the aforementioned fat chick, and I hear “Oh my god, Annie is being, like, such a bitch! Like, you know, none of the stuff that she’s mad at me for is, like, my fault at all. Like, I can’t help it if Erin came up and talked to me, you know,” it makes me glad that I only have a handful of friends.
  • Marketing people often make very little sense. I opened a power supply at work today to put it in a server, and for no apparent reason there was a keychain bottle opener with the company logo emblazoned on it, followed by the words “Power for Reality.” I have several questions about this. First, why exactly would a bottle opener come bundled with a computer power supply? What is the connection between beer and the ability to run multiple terabyte hard drives? I’m not complaining, mind you; I haven’t been able to find my bottle opener for a couple weeks now and it was a welcome surprise. Nonetheless, I’m confused. Also, why the slogan “Power for Reality?” Bottle opener aside, the whole point of a computer is to remove you from reality. Coincidentally, this is the same effect created by booze. The whole thing lacks any sort of logic I could discern.

That’s it for now. I’ll probably think of something later.

2 Thoughts on “random thoughts”

  1. This story was hilarious. It’s just a bunch of random ramblings but it made my whole night.
    Also, I recently had looked up statutory rape laws (don’t ask me why), and at least here in Florida, someone can have consensual sex with a seventeen-year-old as long as you are under the age of twenty four. It wouldn’t surprise me though, if the age of consent for Utah was 15.

  2. Well, I’ve heard rumors of a “three year rule,” but most of those were from guys who were more than likely looking for excuses to bang 15-year-olds, so I don’t know how much I trust it. Plus I’d just feel like a pedophile.

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