Monday, January 30, 2006

The pragmatism of insanity

So I'm taking abnormal psychology for winter break and I think the new seasonal fad should be sporting mental disorders. They say one out of every three Americans has a psychological disorder. That's not good enough. I've dealt with plenty of folk who have perhaps "missed the dartboard entirely", and I must say, keep them coming Genes/Environment. Crazy people are the spice to this bland hunk of meatloaf I call a life. They are the oregano in my Bonduelle Potato Au Gratin, the pesto sauce on my tender veal cutlet. Bam! Delicious.

I'm not talking about anything severe. Just a complete and utter detatchment from reality every now and then. Imagine if you were at a party and some guy started screaming, "Oh my God I can't find my body. Hey, who here watches Star Trek? Oh my God fucking John Denver just stole my beer. Why do I keep hearing the Black Eyed Peas? Someone give me a stick of butter, quick!". And then he gets naked and starts jerkin it to a plant. I could talk to absolutely any girl with that conversational ammunition. You see where I'm coming from?

I think I need more psychological disorders. So far on the checklist is um, ADD. That's about it. And what a pussy disorder at that. I could use some more dillusions. Positive ones. I'm talking along the lines of fat black girl ones. Complete with the "Oh no you di'int!", "I'm the shit" and wavy fingers. Mmhmm. Imagine how interesting I would be, people would love me. At parties I'd be loud and talk about how people "ain't got nuttin' on me" and girls would be drawn towards my cocky indifference.

Positive dellusions - making positive impacts on people's lives. I mean, we spend so much time thinking ourselves and life is so much shittier than it really is, we might as well flip that around and take the upper hand. If only I thought I was better than everybody else, maybe I wouldn't want to sleep all day with the blinds closed because sunlight = happy. Postive dellusions. Now excuse me while I take my clothes off and run out the fire escpape.

Monday, January 09, 2006

shut the fuck up

Here is an example of a legitimate question:

"Greg, why do you hate people?"

The answer is plain and simple - I don't hate people, I just hate things about them. Shame on me if I threw away the entire loaf of bread because one peice of it was moldy. I think I'm willing to accept and overlook certain aspects in people that drive me towards an early menopause because I am a kind, tolerant and loving individual. My eyes glisten with the compassion of Jesus. My hands eminate with the warmth of Mother Theresa. I am a rock. Love. Steadfast love.

But there is one girl in my speech class that I absolutely loathe. Everytime she opens her mouth people start to look at each other, sort of like how beauty pageant queens look at each other before they're about to get their results, except none of us are smiling and we'd all rather hang ourselves. She's one of those types that always jumps into the middle of a conversation to give her opinion, totally disruptive, and she ends everything with, "you know what I'm saying?". And what I've typically found about people who say that is that they don't know what they fuck they are saying.

This girl went completely emo today. We were talking about using euphamisms and abstractions in everyday speech. I was talking about how I personally find it necessary to coat certain harsh topics with sugary terms because while I'm not a sensitive person when it comes to language, other people are and they should be respected. Little Miss Piggy chimes in from the corner like, "Yo yo, nuh uh. You see with me, I'm blunt, I don't beat around the bush like that. I say whatever is on my mind." While we were all looking at each other wishing we had a dirty sock to shove in her grill she finally adds, "Life is too fucking short for that shit, know what I'm saying?"

The bitch dropped the F bomb in speech class while we were talking about appropriate and inappropriate speech. Who the fuck does that? I cuss like a sailor but I know when, this girl is just fucking nuts.

But that's not even the point of my story. The point I was trying to make is that I can't stand people who feel the need to give their opinion on every goddamn subject on the planet. What I've learned over the years is to bite my tongue. Giving an opinion here and there is fine, but eventually if you give too much the Micheal Moore effect will kick in, and all the sudden you're that little squeaky fat man who won't shut the fuck up. So in my opinion, lets all get together and drink a large glass of shut the fuck up.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

On the bus again

Fords can lick my buttery balls, my car broke down on the way to Mountain High last week. So I'm left to take public transit which isn't my bag. Not for a clean cut pseudo-caucasion gentleman as myself. Last time i took the bus I had to sit in the back with a bunch of black people who were holding 40's in brown bags and freestyling. It was as if Rosa Park's karma rose from the grave and decided to fuck with my life. I feel self-conscious around black people. As I was leaving the bus one of the black people looked at me and asked him to throw his 40 ounce away. So what'd I do? I took it and said, "yessah mastah" and didn't look him in the eye. No I didn't but that would have been funny I probably would have been shot or stabbed.

I love black people though. I just think it'd be cool if like, instead of walking in on a bunch of them freestyling I could rather walk in on a bunch of them reciting poetry. Freestyle poetry. And instead of them rapping about chicken-heads eatin their meat and blowing loads in some bitch's eye they'd talk about how some girl's hair glistens nicely in the moonlight. Or instead of rapping about killing cops and selling cocaine, they'd drop some narrative verse about a poor farmer who stole bread to feed his family because the crop wasn't good that year but the government didn't provide subsidaries. Something a bit more down to earth. And I know rapping is poetry too but don't give me that, you know what i mean.

Hopefully today was the only day I had to take the bus to school. I miss my car. My poor 94 explorer is sitting out in the boonies near Wrightwood freezing it's ass off because It'd cost too much to tow over here. I fear if I keep taking the bus, I will lose my life..