N3: Nothing but Love Here, Mr. Currin

Where would I like to work when I grow up?  Hm.  Good question.  Let me think about that one for a little, okay?

Okay, I’m back.  I was just thinking about that for a week straight, but since this is a blog all time differentiation

Disappears.

My dream job is to run an online school newspaper.  If and when I achieve this job, I will do things quite differently than some other online newspaper chiefs.  Let me elaborate.

1.  I will consistently publish the online paper every Deadline Day.  This way, the people who read my paper will know exactly when to expect the next issue.

2.  I will not let blindingly obvious typos like “Cnsolidation through the Eyes of a Sophomore” be the front page article of my paper.

 

3.  I will never publish a paper that is not completely put together.

 

4.  I will not create a tab that says “Crime Files”, and then put a Dear Jake article under that tab.

 

5.  I will not let frauds write for my paper.

 

6.  I will not pile an unnecessary amount of blogs on top of my reporters.

 

7.  I will not ‘skip’ a Reporter of the Month Award.

 

8.  I will make sure whoever is in charge of my paper’s Facebook page uses correct grammar and punctuation in their posts.

 

9.  I will make the public know that my paper actually exists.

 

10.  I will not assign a reporter that does absolutely no reporting to a story that no one cares about over and over again.

I think once I accomplish these ten items, I will have a newspaper that will thrive in whatever school I work for, and beat the crap out of any news station that the school I work for also happens to be broadcasting.

N4: Google Glasses- the Beginning of Evil Robots?

Do you know how in movies with an evil robot, it sometimes shows how things look through the vision of the robot, and everything is red and there’s gauges and information boxes everywhere and there’s little targets going around and then when it sees the person it wants to kill all the little targets go around the guy’s face and the targets start blinking and the word “exterminate” beeps across the robot’s vision?

Google Glasses.

In my opinion, Google Glasses are the start of something bad.  Think about it: if everybody’s walking around wearing the internet on their faces, we’ll cease talking to each other, then interacting with each other, and before you know it you’ll look at your best friend and a bunch of little targets will focus on his face.  And do you know what you’re going to do?

Exterminate.

I mean, what’s next?  A brain chip?  A Google Suit?  Technology is getting too advanced, and one day it’s going to backfire on us.  I keep picturing Google becoming an actual physical thing, like a huge robot or a computer with a face on it that has the power to control minds.   What do we do then?  Google how to defeat the Google Robot?  If you do that, it’ll be all like, “no result found,” and “did you mean- how to make my Google Suit self-destruct?”

Now, that said, I think it be pretty cool to have a pair.  Think about all the stuff you could do: record video, take pictures, video chat, walk in front of a speeding truck while looking up “funny things to post on Facebook” on Google… the possibilities are endless. 

There’s also eye cancer to consider, but I think if everyone gets a pair of Google Glasses, one bulging eye will just become an accepted part of society.

N1: Currin Event

http://www.upi.com/Odd_News/2013/03/28/Police-Woman-stabbed-beau-took-fake-leg/UPI-69391364492548/

 

I just read a very interesting article online.

Apparently, some woman was arrested for domestic violence against her boyfriend.  She stabbed the guy in the hand, and get this: she “immobilized him” by throwing his prosthetic leg out the window.

There are two sides to this story: one told by the boyfriend, and one told by the woman, whose name is Michelle Thomas.  Michelle’s story is the following.

Michelle was sitting in her house when her boyfriend, who lives with her, came in drunk.  Michelle then threw a box of cigarettes at him for reasons that were not reported, and in response the boyfriend started beating her with his fists.

Michelle then took out a knife, and stabbed her boyfriend in the hand out of self-defense.  But the boyfriend kept hitting her; apparently he was still mad about getting a pack of cigarettes thrown at him.  So Michelle removed the boyfriend’s prosthetic leg and threw it, along with a spare prosthetic leg, out of a window, immobilizing her assaulter.

The boyfriend, whose name was not divulged, had a slightly different story.  According to him, he was minding his own business when Michelle came up to him and started assaulting him with a knife and threw his leg out the window.

Which story is more believable?  Honestly, I think they’re both crazy, but I like to believe Michelle’s story.  It’s just awesome to think that someone could stop an attacker by unclamping his fake leg from the rest of his body and just chucking it out the window.

The outcome of the court case was that the boyfriend gets no charges whatsoever, and Michelle was arrested and charged with criminal domestic violence.

This article just goes to show that you shouldn’t go throwing packs of cigarettes at drunken people.  Also, Michelle Thomas is now my hero.

N5: The Fire Tornado

“Man, it’s windy.”

“Yeah, I know.  Hey, what’s that whooshing sound?”

“Uh, that’s the wind.”

“Oh.  Yeah, that’s pretty windy.”

“I hope we don’t get a tornado.”

“A tornado in Kansas?  Yeah, THAT’LL happen.”

“Actually, we live in Tornado Alley, so…”

“Why do we live in Tornado Alley?”

[sound of roof getting ripped off of house]

“WHOAH!  Let’s get out of here!”

[sound of running, door being opened and slammed shut]

“Holy crap!  It’s a tornado!  We’re screwed!”

“Don’t worry; I got this.”

“Dude, is that a flamethrower?  Where the heck did you get a flamethrower?!”

“STAND BACK!”

[FWOOOOOM]

“DUDE!  That didn’t do anything!  Now all the fire is just swirling around inside the tornado!”

“The beauty of nature.”

“YOU JUST MADE A FREAKING FIRE TORNADO!”

“Hey, guys!  Do you know what an epididymis is?”

“Oh, hey.  Um, why do you want to know that?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a mythological creature that has the body of an eagle and the head of a pony.”

“It’s for my Health homework.”

“Uhhh, well you see, an epididymis is… one of the many organs that is, um… located…”

“This seems really awkward.”

“I’ll just put ‘horse creature’.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

“What?”

“Did you ever get that feeling where you just KNOW you’re forgetting something REALLY important?”

“You know what?  I’m getting that vibe too.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

[BOOOOOOOOOM!]

“Whoah!  Is that a fire tornado?”

“Well that gas station didn’t just get blown up by a blizzard, did it?!”

“Yeah, and that school bus full of children didn’t get consumed by an epididymis.”

“Hey, let’s have a little less attitude and a little more gratitude.  I know how to stop these things.”

[BOOOOOOOOM]

[sound of lady screaming]

“How do you know how to stop a fire tornado?”

“I learned in health class.  I’ll need something to ride into the eye of the tornado.”

“Hey, what’s that in the sky?”

“It’s a bird!”

“It’s a plane!”

“It’s an epididymis!”

“Holy crap, what is that thing?”

“It’s just like you said: a creature with the body of an eagle and the head of a pony!”

“CAW, CAW!  SCREEEECH!”

[sound of guy mounting a creature with the body of an eagle and the head of a pony]

“Onward, steed!”

“Hey, do you want this flamethrower to defend yourself?”

“Oh, sure!  Thanks!”

“No, don’t use that!  Last time we did we--”

“CAW, CAW!”

[sound wings flapping an creature taking off]

“There he goes.  Do you think he’ll stop it?”

“Nope.”

“Aw dude, you’re right.  He just totally died.”

“Poor guy; didn’t even know what an epididymis is.”

N2: Spring

What do I love about spring? Well that is very good question.  A very good question INDEED.  It’s a hard choice, but I think what I like about spring the most is

Nothing.

Everybody says spring is the season of life, but is it really?  Look outside your window and answer me that.  Spring is the most miserable, cold, muddy, INSUFFERABLE

Wait a moment.  I’ve just been informed by the Google that June is part of spring.  I like June.  June is when my birthday is.  In fact, I think June is my favorite month of the whole year.  But I hate March. 

Ladies and gentlemen, I’m torn.

Why are there five blogs to write now?  I barely kept up writing four, and now they’re dumping another one on top of me?  That is what I call unfair to the hard working middle class in online publishing such as myself.

Anyway, March is the worst month of the year, and June is the best, so spring is kind of like Neapolitan ice cream to me: I love one side but hate the other.  To further my analogy, June is the vanilla, March is the chocolate that is richer than Donald Trump winning the lottery, and I suppose April would be the strawberry.

Do you want to know what’s nagging me right now?  Once I finish this blog, I’ll have four more to write. Blegh.  That’s so blegh. 

Blegh.

Let’s just say this better be a one-week only thing, because guess what?  It’s March.  I’m hungry, I’m irritable, and I’m bloating.  Actually I’m just irritable.  And hungry.

Do you want to know what I just realized?  Those people writing about acts of kindness that they never even did have to write the same amount of blogs as they always did!

Dat ain’t right.

M3: Embarrassing Moment

The most embarrassing moment of my life is very hard to pin down, just because I’ve had a lot of them.  But the thing that worries me the most is that I have to type three hundred words by the end of this day, and it’s eleven o’clock now.  Am I going to do this?

Honestly, I don’t know.  And even more honestly, nothing embarrassing has ever happened to me.  So do you know what I am going to do?  I am going to tell you the most embarrassing moment of someone else’s life.

So there’s this guy, right?  And he’s walking down the street, and he’s feeling really good about himself.  Then all of sudden he sees this girl walking down the street who he is attracted to.  So he goes up to her, and he’s like,

“Hey, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

The girl looks at him and goes, “Aw, you’re so cute!  Would you like to play baseball with me and hit a double?” And the guy’s just like, “Um, okay.”  But then the girl says, “Hey loser, who are you talking to?  I’M talking to that adorable little man sitting on your shoulder.”  The guy looks over, and realizes that there is a little man sitting on his shoulder, and that the girl was talking to the little man the whole time.  Then the little man says,

“Hey, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

Then the girl is like, “Oh my gawd, you are SOOOO clever! Did you come up with that yourself?” and the little man’s just like, “Yeah.”

You may think it couldn’t get any worse, but alas, as the guy hung his head in shame, he realized he was stark naked and people started pointing at him.

Okay, confession time: the guy was actually me.

M1: Saint Patrick's Day

Saint Patrick’s Day is a perfect example of how stupid people can be if they don’t have exact directions.  Think about it: all people do on St. Patty’s Day is get drunk and pretend they’re more Irish than they are, and somehow leprechauns are in on it too.  Now, I know there’s a story about how Saint Patrick did all this stuff and got captured and everything, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t turn into a Leprechaun or drink or anything.  I think people just know about how Saint Patrick was Irish, so they get drunk, like Irish people often do (not that there’s anything wrong with that).  The Leprechaun probably comes from the three colors of the Irish flag: green clothes, an orange beard, and stark white skin (not that there’s anything wrong with that). 

If people had directions on how to celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day, I think it could really be a good holiday.  I mean, think about if Christmas didn’t have directions.  All people would do is strap crosses to their back and run around the streets screaming,

“JEEEEESUUUUUUUS!”

Like I said, all Saint Patrick’s Day needs is some instructions, so I have composed a series of activities and customs to do on Saint Patrick’s Day.  Ahem.

Every Saint Patrick’s Day, each town gathers up all of their ginger residents, who dress as Leprechauns. Then, those select few proceed to get as drunk as possible, and then hide anywhere in the town.  Once they are done hiding, everybody in the town looks for them.  You may think it will be easy to find a drunken full-sized Leprechaun in a town, but there is a twist: Everybody in the town wears a blindfold and are only guided by a specially trained sheep on a leash.

Once a Leprechaun is found by a sheep, he or she, the sheep, and the person guiding the sheep are thrown into a deep pit full of clovers.  In the pit of clovers, there is ONE four-leafed one, and if anyone finds it, they automatically win the Patty Cup, which is basically a huge trophy with a Saint Patrick figurine on top.

But, obviously, that won’t happen, because it is very unlikely that the four-leafed clover will be found.  No, the most common way for the Patty Cup to be won is for a sheep-guider to find the last Leprechaun, and then all three of them (the Leprechaun, the sheep-guider, and the sheep) share the trophy and are paraded around on chairs like a Bar-Mitzvah.  When that’s over, everyone in the town just chills in the clover pit and swims around in the clovers.  I think if people celebrated St. Patrick’s Day this way, it would represent the true meaning of the holiday more than just getting drunk.

M4: The Fox Under the Sheepskin

This ‘My 26’ blog thing going around is a load of garbage.  It’s a fraud.  And to prove that, I am going to expose the world’s largest blog fraud:

Matt Lamb.

Everybody thinks Matt Lamb is this nice “guy”, but the truth is, ladies and gentlemen, he’s not.  Let me give you an example.

On the bus ride home from the Canisius field trip, I sat next to Matt.  Our spirits were high as we rode home with our new T-shirts that said ‘meht etaerc yeht –spam esu t’nod srerolpxe laer’, and our fancy pens.  But then I realized something: my pen was gone.  I looked everywhere; under the seat, in my backpack, in my pockets… but it was no use.  My pen was gone.  I curled up in a ball next to Matt, and slowly started to weep.

“Here,” said Matt, “Have MY pen.”  I looked up, and a smile found itself to my face.  I reached for the pen, now with tears of joy.

But Matt Lamb pulled it away.

“Just kidding,” he said.  “This is my pen.  But I’m still going to write a kindness blog about it.”  Ladies and gentlemen, if you go on Matt’s kindness blog, I guarantee you will find one there about giving me a pen.

But that’s not all.  He has also lied and exaggerated in his blogs and articles on many occasions, including the one about giving his brother a ride and lending his brother money.  He is not the docile lamb he appears to be; he is cunning fox wearing a sheepskin.
I have just found out another thing: matt Lamb has just said that he signed up to be on WACS News, arch enemy of the Bulldog, next year.

Also his middle name is Hussein.  How suspicious is that?

I have millions of more examples of how Matt Lamb is fraudulent, and I would tell you all of them, but it looks like I’m out of words.

M2: Distracted Driving

Let’s set the stage. 

Matt Lahowski, lovable yet quirky teenager, is coming home from his water aerobics class.  It’s late, and cold, and he wants to get home as soon as possible.  Like I said, he’s late, so he pulls out his phone and texts his mom,

Srry m l8.  H2o rbics wnt xtra lng.  Lurve u mom.  (M8k-t sound in 8) me sndwch.  Blgna plz.  w/ mstrd n mynnse.  Lso f’u kood (m8k-t sound in 8) me hmmde slshy tht wd b (icecube-cube+n in the beginning f tht wrd).  Thrs prpl Kool aid n th frdge, so u cud jst pt it n a cp n then pt the cp n th frzr.  K lurve u mum LOL :D ;P.

Now, as Matt was creating this text, he was walking home.  Now obviously he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings, and poor lovable yet quirky Matt accidentally wandered into the interstate. 

Upon sending his text, he looked up and realized he was where he was.  But it was too late, because a semi plowed into him, splattering lovable yet quirky guts all over the road and the grill of the truck.

This story has a moral, ladies and gentlemen, because the person driving that semi had an alcohol before he went out and hit Matt Lahowski.

Let’s have a moment of silence for Matt Lahowski.

And now for a plot twist, because the story is far from over.  Get ready: the driver of the semi was matt Lahowski’s mother, and was reading his text as she mowed him to the ground.  Gasp!  But the story STILL isn’t over, because as Matt Lahowski’s mom was wondering why her child’s glasses were stuck to the windshield of her semi with bile, she banked off a guard rail and her semi did a barrel roll.

Don’t text and drive.

[whiplash noise]

Or drive after doing an alcohol.

[less awesome whiplash noise]

L4: Haikus

For this blog, I will be composing haikus.  If you did not know, a haiku is a form of poetry with a five-syllable line, followed by a seven-syllable line, followed by another five-syllable line.  Ahem.

This is a haiku.

Yeah THIS actual thing is.

How stupid are these?

 

Oompa loompa boom,

Oompa oompa loompa boom.

Oompa loompa boom.

 

I saw a big fish.

It was a really huge fish.

It swam up and ate a bird.

 

Think about this, man.

There’s no black superheroes.

Try to think of one.

 

Okay, so Frozone.

Black man in Incredibles.

But he doesn’t count.

 

Oompa loompa boom.

Oh wait, I just did this one.

That was my best one…

 

Chinese eat noodles.

Especially at New Year’s.

The Chinese one, man.

 

Long, long, long ago

In a galaxy far, far,

Far away… Star Wars.

 

I’m halfway done now

With my blog about haikus.

150 more words.

 

This isn’t a haiku,

But who’s actually reading this?

Thug life, b****.

 

What’s with Joan Rivers?

Her botoxy face is weird.

Get it together.

 

I am as bored as

H E double hockey sticks.

Oompa loompa boom.

 

Two fish in a tank.

One of them says, “How do you

Drive this thing?  Ha HA!

 

Country music sucks.

It makes me hate the U.S.

Why no cool band names?

 

This Friday night blows.

But Katy Perry’s last one

Was pretty awesome.

 

What if there was a

Ninja battle in SkyZone?

Now that would be sick.

 

What is with YouTube?

It’s not yours, and it’s no tube.

It don’t make no sense.

 

Matt Lamb is a sheep.

He is a sheep in disguise.

Have you any wool?

 

El Chupacabra

Eats unsuspecting old dames.

Those poor old women.

 

This is my last one.

If you read this whole thing, props.

You have no life, dude.

L2: What I Fear (for credit)

This world is a scary place.  You’ve got your spiders, your snakes, your sixty five year old Hollywood women trying to pull off a facelift; the list could go on forever.  But those are the things that other people fear.  Those are the things that perhaps you fear.  But not me. 

I wish I could say I fear nothing, and if I did, it would be mostly true.  But there is but one thing I fear in this world.  My weakness; my kryptonite.  Something so horrible, so TERRIFYINGLY evil, I shudder with the very thought of it.  What is it, you ask?

El Chupacabra.

El Chupacabra is a South American cryptid that some claim to have seen, but no one actually has proof of.  I don’t know that much about it, but you don’t really have to to be scared of it.  There’s something about Spanish words that nobody knows the meaning of that just gives me the creeps, like El Guacomole or “Tengo mierda en los pantalones”.

From what I’ve gathered, El Chupacabra is a large, demonic dog thing that eats people for their taste.  Everyone who has seen it cannot stop raving about its red eyes and sharp teeth.

That’s pretty much all I know about it.  Oh, and it also lives in my basement.  One time, I had to go down there at night time to get socks.  I descended the cold, cement steps.  For some reason, my basement steps are like, as long as a football field, so you can’t even see the bottom, and there are stalactites hanging from the ceiling.  Once in a while, one falls and impales someone. 

Once you get to the bottom, you’ll find that there is no light switch; only a pull string light hanging from THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM.  You have to inch through the complete, enveloping darkness, hearing El freaking Chupacabra breathing right behind you, and then turn on the light, not knowing if Slenderman or Joan Rivers is standing right there with a knife.  If you’re lucky, there isn’t, but then you’d better sprint up those steps like you’re about to be killed, because guess what?  You are.

You know, I actually think my basement is also something I might be afraid of.