This Is the Vanilla Ice Cream of Posts

So its been twelve days since I last posted something. To be honest, you guys, sometimes I forget this blog exists except for when I make not-really-ironic-jokes-because-they-are-just-sad jokes about it. Also, you guys haven't missed much. Honestly.

Christmas shopping is okay, I guess. Like, there were so many people at the mall. And, I ended up buying more things for myself than for others, but like its cool I guess. Sister A made me spend way too much money than what was necessary. Like exorbitant.

I like getting things. A lot.

I almost have this whole applying to college thing wrapped up, but its not like I have a choice. Before tonight, after I got so much shit done, I really felt under the gun.

On Christmas Eve, Family A watched old home movies because apparently, thats what goes down on December 24? But anyway, they were awesome. Like everyone I feel is exactly the same. I want each one played at my funeral. On giant screens. But in the future, there will only be absurdly small screens and absurdly large screens. The future sounds fun, doesn't it?

I realized I will like anything a website tells me to like. I wish you all were the same because you would read this and be like "I totally love coherent ramblings about how much everything sucks."

Sometimes its really hard to fake being nice. acting enthusiastically. Like I was really happen that Friends A got into the colleges they want early. I was mad that some did not. But when I heard most people talk about getting their acceptance letters already, I just wanted to stab them in the ear with a mechanical pencil.

I learned that I work best under pressure. But really, its only because I have to.

I also learned that, despite my hatred of only children, its just easier being an only child. Like when Brother A doesn't live with me, life is fucking awesome. I don't have to wonder where Wesley Snipes is. I can do shit by myself. I don't have to pick anybody up at the train station at two in the morning. My room doesn't have this weird smell (like old Cheerios and suntan lotion.)I can listen to my iPod and watch TV and not be fucking judged by anyone. Gahh, FUCK.

I like Brian Posehn. And actually that whole "Comedians of Comedy" special. And yes, I watch Secret Stash too.

You know what's awesome? French house music.

You know what else is awesome? Flyernationbroskillzz. American Apparel sweatshirts. UO.

I love when people ask me for relationship advoce when they know I have never been in an actual relationship. I love my art friends. Especially Jasmine. Like I think she is the Persian female version of me.

In case you couldn't tell, I literally had nothing to write about. My life has been very uneventful lately.

I want to start giving out advice on this blog. Just email me and you shall anonymously receive my pearls of wisdom.

"THAT is a Terrible People Convention."

So last night was Bacchanlia 2007 at Produce Pete's house. And that title does not refer to our exploits. His parents were in Vermont, because if they weren't it never would have happened because of his dad. The man is intimidating. And frankly, he frightens me. There, I said it.

It was a night of randomness, and the first of many MAD BEERS was cracked at 8:34. Then we watched something about the plague on the History Channel. Because, you know, we know how to party. When I say we I mean Id A, Produce Pete, Uday Pulaski, The Schmelter, The Rabbi, V.I. Melanin, and Anne Frank (that was funnier when I was drunk but now I just think it's offensive, but let's roll.) We were joined by a seemingly unending cast of characters many of whom were in and out in five minutes and were also friends of Produce Pat (figure it out, it's not my best.) Most of those people were guidos. I now present to you, an official and perhaps anachronistic list of last nights events:

MAD BEERS
The plague
I make a joke about The Hills that falls on deaf ears because Mrs. Schmelter was not there.
"Let's just watch The Notebook."
MAD BEERS
"Have you guys seen how hot Abigail Breslin has gotten?"
THE RABBI! (He leaves three minutes after showing up, returns an hour and a half later.)
Text V.I. Melanin, I get a text back saying "who is this ?" Thanks.
ANNE FRANK! (She prevented it from being a total cockfest.)
MAD BEERS
Some time elapses, we form cliques which is weird because at this point only six people were in that basement.
V.I. MELANIN!
NO MORE DRUM PLAYING, THANK YOU.
MAD BEERS
FACEBOOK!!!!!!!!!!1!111!!!!
Judgment, witticisms, good times.
Produce Pete decides to lie down on his pool table. Id A: That looks comfortable. Uday Pulaski throws water on us. A fight between Uday Pulaski and Produce Pete breaks out.
I tell everyone we can no longer be friends with other people/ other person.
THE RABBI (take two) He has other people with him.
GAY GAY GAY
Broing out.
MAD BEERS
"I wish I had a camera." (If these pictures did exist, they would be on Facebook. All ironically, naturally. V.I. and I are very much opposed to this. Especially a certain someone's pictures."
Cue impromptu cigarette break. The Rabbi's people leave shortly thereafter.
Definite inebriation.
TOTES inebriation.
Then we got ripped of but Produce Pat's friends for a some shitty Watermelon Rum.
The Rabbi sprained his ankle "chasing [me] up the stairs."
"Did you have sex with an Asian girl?" "[Sigh] Yeah."
The Schmelter fell asleep. He woke up with shit all over his face this morning.
The Rabbi, Uday Pulaski, and Id A try to determine everyone in our grade's virginity. It goes without saying, we had MAD BEERS.
Produce Pete falls asleep in the most uncomfortable position ever. We wake him up so we can go on Facebook and continue our game.
The Rabbi falls asleep taking the couch.
The clock strikes 3:23, mad tired after MAD BEERS.
Awkward sleeping circumstances for the next six hours. Like, I slept on top of an ottoman.
"Gahh FUUCK! I have to go to work in like FIVE MINUTES!"
Cleanup and then studying all day today.
Currently, I'm watching the finale (sad!) of America's Most Smartest Model.
Did not feel sick today. I cannot say the same for my fellow brosephs.

Flavor Samples

Some thoughts, maybe an insight, perhaps an experience:
1) Today, whilst getting my hurr cut, I witnessed the oddest exchange ever between the hair cutting enthusiast and the schleepy looking, balding man getting his hurr cut too. He totally wanted to tap it so badly. She was a million times out of his league and like at least 20 years younger than he. She was also super Long Island-y. We were the only people in the whole place. The song on the radio was just these two lines over and over again: "Ooooh ooo diamond girl/ You're my diamond girl." Then after that, the song very abruptly changes to this woman having the most mind-blowing orgasm ever. Its borderline offensive. Luckily the person cutting my hurr put the blow dryer on just as he asked "So how did you get into this industry?" I snorted to myself. It was awkward. For everyone.

2) I like that there is no longer an "is" anymore. Let's not be rash and talk about it or make statuses like "Allie LOVES there is no longer an "is" in her status." I hate awkward gerunds as much as the next guy but like, omg srsly?

3) I love end of the year lists. Especially if something I like is on it. It makes me feel validated.

On a sidenote: Talking about blogging is almost as cool as blogging. Almost. Expect a post later today on last night's activities.

People With Leprosy, I Feel Your Pain

But not like that! {A cymbal makes a cymbal noise) FARTS!

So this morning, after I finished watching the same episode of "America's Most Smartest Model" that I am watching as I type this (Shut up! Why do you watch it?) I realized that I really didn't feel well. Congestion and a headache and a sore throat and a C******** art project to do. The Perfect Storm of early-December illnesses.

So after I finished watching some Tila and some dykes talk about their vaginae (Maybe?) I took a bath. Yes, I, Id A, intelligent college-bound blogger student artist awesome-propagator, took a bath like an average four year-old. I FEEL SICK! And, Parents A were at the mall because thats the life they have now. Doing Christmas shopping. Together. All day. On a Sunday. Needless to say, the bath took an hour and did not work.

I went to see if there was any medicine in the house. Just stuff for if your shit is watery. Ick. That won't help this. I don't eat that much Chipotle.

I went to get some food because maybe that was all I needed. Because after the unfamous Migraine? of October 2007, I am convinced food can do wonders. Ben and Jerry's made my vision straight and brought my fever down. Who needs doctors? Needless to say, a Ceasar salad does not have the same curative powers as ice cream.

So now, I sit here, sniffle city. I'm planning on getting hot chocolate tomorrow and I hope the people at my usual Dunk don't judge me for that and tell Dad A. This is my drive for waking up tomorrow. That, and what promises to be an awesome art class. Also, I'll be carrying tissues around with me all day. Because I am eighty years young. And you say shit like that at that age.

"The Burn Blog" WARNING: THIS POST IS "MEAN BOYS"

Actually, its more like the basis for the screenplay I'm working on.

The following is the first in a series of Facebook message conversations between Polo Bear and Id A. For as smart as we both are, you would never know by these messages. No, seriously. We are really smart. Like smart-smart. So anyway, I added some notes because, that's how I roll.

Id A
11:56pm Jul 15th
did you get a kind of insulting message from w**** because you didnt approve of his love of himself? maybe it was just how i interpreted it.hang out this week?


Polo Bear
2:40pm Jul 16th
no i did not get an angry message from w****. i will be ready to fire back if i do. i think i am open most nights this week.


Id A
2:41pm Jul 16th
friday or tonight... i have work tues-thurs (NOTE: We did not hang out that week I don't think. Probably my fault.)


Id A
4:46pm Jul 16th
ps. w****'s message says "thanks tyler, becuz if you don't know how to make fun of urself lifes going to get pretty hard." kind of insulting, no?


Polo Bear
7:56pm Jul 16th
pretty piss-poor attempt at self-awareness. like he actually knows how much of a joke he acts like.


Id A
8:00pm Jul 16th
we shouldnt all have to validate w****. he's a big boy and he had a lame excuse for saying that some made the group under his name. rit was because w**** wanted attention and, to me, there is nothing worse than people LOOKING for attention. and i get it, w**** YOU think YOU'RE hilarious, now leave me alone for the next year.


Polo Bear
9:19pm Jul 16th
haha... will that be long enough?


Id A
11:58pm Jul 16th
knowing me probably not. (NOTE: FACT: W**** and I have to see each other everyday for an excrutiatingly long period of time.)maybe he should just move to nova scotia or nebraska or some place i will never ever go and that way we both win. the locals are charmed by his personality because what more do they have to do and i never have to hear from him ever again because it is a well known fact they dont have the internet or phones or hell even post offices there.sorry i never called back i never check my phone ever. (NOTE: Yeah, my fault.) its realy a bad habit. also: today a bus driver told me to go fuck myself because i cut him off. who wants to be stuck behind a bus on old country road? nobody, thats who.


Polo Bear
4:30pm Jul 17th
haha... minnesota would be a good place too, ask c******* - they don't even sell nike shoes there, forget about electricity. then again, w**** would be lost without nikes. or nike headbands.


Id A
4:52pm Jul 17th
or wristbands... or anklebands. really? not even in mall of america? its THE MALL of AMERICA!

Whatevs

Things that I (and perhaps you) have enjoyed recently:
Cinnamon Air Fresheners (Even though I feel cinnamon is overplayed especially in the scents department.)
French Vanilla Air Fresheners (Ditto.)
Experimental Late 70s British Rock.
Dance Parties. (Obvi.)
Light knits.
A certain pair of Converse.
Facebook and the fact that people are finally taking down their yearbook photos as their profile pictures. Finally! And yes, that means you too, Polo Bear.
Brother A.
Person/people talking about this blog.
1986 and one hit wonders.
Cold War politics on "America's Most Smartest Model."
"America's Most Smartest Model."
Art Vandal Ay eradicated AIDS today, you guys.
Secrets.
When people say "LUUUUUUUULZ" instead of laughing.
Gmail and Bruce Washington.
New bands.
The Class of 2007.
The Jews.
College Apps.
"Future Cegs Love Sounds"/ "Cegs for Drugs" and other things involving Uday Pulaski.

Things I have not enjoyed recently:
The pair of underwear I have on right now.
Alarm and the cause for it. (Both kinds)
Dust.
The fact that whenever I turn on the heat in Wesley Snipes this weird buzzing noise happens.
College Apps.
Mom A and what she said to me.
Sister A.
Uncertainty.
Flashing orange tabs.
Whenever I go into my browser I immediately begin typing <<http://www.f/>> and then stop. (Break the addiction.)
Other people. Like other other people.
Entertainment Weekly.
The fact that I haven't had the time to read a book.
The Frenemy and his band. In fact, most high school bands. Most.
That really sketchy guy that night.
"Street businesses." (Fuck you.)
Owns ME. (As uj.)

The Secret to Their Sucksess

Now, if you are a hardcore fan of this blog (Anybody, hands?) you might be wondering "Id A, where is all the swearing?" The anser is, I didn't write this. V.I Melanin did. Id A did edit though, so when you read (Ed. note:...) it will actually be a note by an editor and not just 21st century schizophrenia. Blogosphere! Anyway, some venting, some anger, more than some frustration with attending a school in which everyone is white and wealthy, but still some manage to be the Whitest and the Wealthiest. (Note the caps. Supremacy, not that kind.)

It's that time of year again. The leaves are changing. It's getting colder. Spoiled lacrosse players are realizing they can now do EVEN LESS work because -- hey!-- they're already in college. Actually, a really good one, like REALLY GOOD. Actually its Douche U.

Let's analyze each of these outstanding C******** men a little deeper, shall we:

Bitch The newest addition of the horde of thieves. Like honestly, one could just call him hairy beast of the water. Seriously, if growing chest hair, looking fat, and rowing metal across molecules of hydrogen and oxygen can get you into Douche U - I was approaching this whole college process the wrong way (Ed note: Me too. If all you needed was upper body strength, I would've put down the fucking paintbrush and lifted like bricks or something). And dude, could you ask any more annoying question and/or wear uglier sweaters (Ed note: Is he even smart? Like, I don't think so, right? I don't actually even remember him existing? He doesn't shop at Mecca, but occassionally, I do like his crazy '80s garb. I'm a bad person). They don't call it a "crime" to wear poor clothing for no reason. You're a bitch.

Hoe "Yea! I can kick round objects of cow hide across arbitrarily drawn goal lines. Besides that, I like to spend my evenings housing hideous hair while pretending to be an intellectual. I used to be popular until people realized that I really have nothing going for me besides a kick-ass last name and a big house." Will be one of Douche U's finest, I'm sure. You a hoe (Ed note: And you TOTALLY look like that kid in elementary school who got everyone to pay the fat kid with low self esteem to eat like weird shit like Oreos covered in tin foil and ranch dressing. You suck).

Slut My favorite people in today's world are pseudo-toughguys. Like guess what bro, I pride myself in knowing I no longer participate in the same recreational activities that the fucking Native Americans did [see c.f., evolving/civilizing]. Might I also re-iterate that Skank U is going to be hosted some hideous hair styles. This kid's hair is as white as.....well whatever, it's white and ugly and not appealing and ugly. Your dad was in Skull and Bones (Ed note: Actually, you never leave), congratulations! Your father's intellect joins the rank of Mr. Bush's (Ed note: V.I., did you learn nothing from The General? It's Mr. PRESIDENT, you American hating abortionist!). You're a slut. (Ed note: Id A actually went to middle school with the hoe. And he is the EXACT same now as he was then. Like he had already written his ticket. Also, you remind of someone who is going to pay for an abortion in two years.)

Whore One word...Very Strong Acne Medication. Oh wait, that was more than one word (Ed note: Four, actually). Oh well, you still need it. Besides that, let's reflect on why you're getting into Skank U. O yes, you swing wooden bats. Wonderful. We had Indians, now we have cavemen. It's so thrilling to see empirical examples of just how far we've come as a race. I don't think I've ever met someone who pretends to try as little as you do. Funny thing is, you still get mediocre grades while working your ass off. (Ed note: I just fucking hate this kid because like, okay, he used to be fat anf when he lost his extra weight only then did he start hanging out with the 11030 mob and only until last year was he king. Well, shah maat.) Oh well, the whole "book" thing isn't for everyone. Especially not for Ivy fellows, apparently. You're a whore.

Conclusion: Douche U is a political machine. Douche U doesn't care that some people actually have brains. Douche U is for skanks. (Ed note: These four shitslices almost make me not want to go there. Like if only like every admissions officer could hang out with me and V.I., they would see how awesome we are.)

V.I. Melanin

LOLappz

In a day I did nothing except procrastinate about doing my applications, I thought of my fake NYU supplement more than my real one.

Describe a trait or characteristic that has been passed along to you by your family. Tell us why you like or dislike this part of yourself.
White skin. I think my opinion of this is pretty obvious.

New York City is an essential element of academic and cultural life at NYU. If you could start a club or service organiztion at NYU, what would it be and how could you envision it impacting the larger community?
Um, how does that first sentence relate to the question? But anyway, I would start a club for people who like doing ordinary things like ironing, checking emails, naked. It would be called "The Club for People Who Like Doing Ordinary Things Like Ironing, Checking Emails, Naked." It would impact the larger community (you mean fatties, right?) by letting them know where they are not wanted so they don't even try to hang out, for real, like fat people are gross. Also it would stop sexual offenders on campus because they would be too busy sexually offending each other to sexually offend others.

You have been selected to sing in a talent show. What song would you choose? Why?
I answer your question with a question: Who is at this talent show? Is it people I am already friends with? People I want to be friends with? My grandparents? Regardless, the song would be "Hate That I Love You" by Rihanna (Ed. note: YAY!) and some guy who is totes black (Ed. note: BOO!) I feel that this song is timeless and would reveal to all three groups (and only those groups) a little about me. That/Those revelation/s: I am awesome and my iPod doesn't work in my car.

Please tell us what led you to select your anticipated academic program and/or NYU school/college, and what interests you most about your intended discipline.
Actually this is a good question. To find out who my real dad is, that's what.

C'est la vie.

The current contents of my car:

-Those cool $10 sunglasses no one but me and I guess Pabeers is too fond of.
-A staple gun, hammers, screwdrivers.
-Tape. (related)
-Umbrella. (unrelated)
-Petroleum Jelly. (YOU DECIDE!)
-A distinct McDonalds/Chipotle/coffee smell.
-Three sketchbooks (one not used at all, two both less than half [that last part I just decided would make an AWESOME album name. {COPYRIGHT ID A THIS BLOG}])
-Countless small water bottles.
-Probably some Chapstick.
-Love.
-Oh, oh. And yeah the shit that's getting me into college.

This one's for you Polo Bear because you are Polo Bear and "ya got guts, kid."

I'm In the Barack Obama Facebook Group, Relax!

So. Today (yesterday?) Produce Pete and I, Id A, went to Mecca to begin his Pygmalion-esque transformation from "high school Produce Pete to college Produce Pete." My words. TURNITIN!

So after Mecca we went to Champs after Foot Locker and Athlete's Foot to find a pair of sneakers I wanted. This was after like half an hour of searching.

Then, we find them and I go to pay. Normal. Then the black cashier asked me who got the shoes for me. This is what happened:

No CJ: That'll be $50.32.
Id A: Ok.
No CJ: Could you tell me the person who got these shoes from the back?
Id A: I forgot his name. Sry.
No CJ: Well. What did he look like? (FACT: Everyone who works there is black.)
Id A: He's tall.
No CJ: ...
Id A: And black. (It;s at this point where I get a big shitty grin on my face and continue awkwardness)
No CJ: ...
Id A (to Produce Pete): Did he have facial hair?
Produce Pete: ...
Id A: I think is name was CJ?
No CJ: That's impossible. No one named CJ works here.
Id A (panicking): It was THAT GUY.

No CJ then left for like five minutes as I stood there with my Converse probably telling other No CJs this story. I am "That Really White Kid."

Here's the thing. I knew he was thinking "This kid isn't going to say he's black because he is superwhite and paid with a debit card. I'm going to make him feel uncomfortable." Entrapment much? But like, I win because I totally beat racism.

"Experimental" Comedy

The conclusion of a very long week brings (yet another) long weekend, work-wise. But for now, some thoughts:

Who the fuck invented turnitin.com? Fuck them. I hope they get the AIDS they could have cured instead of making such a fucking retarded website.

Why do I <3 lollipops so much? Maybe I'm a really slutty twelve year old rebellious Asian from Anaheim on the inside. Maybe.

Sometimes shitting is more than shitting, it's a fucking work out.

The college application process is in full swing and as much as I want to go to college, I really don't want to have to fill those fuckers out.

I have my own Frenemy. You should realize what that is. I'm not going to reveal who it is yet, but you all know him. I can never tell if we're friends or not and sometimes I really fucking hate him and he hates me back. Tah.

I wish blacks didn't exist.*

I finally what I'm going to do in my will. Inspired by what i read in the Unethicist on G*****, I'm going to keep journals and when I die people I don't like (or Frenemies [I plan on having many, it just makes things more interesting]) will get these journals and they will learn that even though I have been adult aborted I fucking hate them. From the after life. That's a hurt that won't go away. (And don't worry readers, you guy(s) are cool.)

Remember that episode of "Hey Arnold" where the sentence "Stoop kid's afraid to leave his stoop" was said like a million times? I do.

Remember when Dane Cook was like REALLY funny and everyone said "sangwich" and "rum"? I do. It was back when New York magazine used to come to my house but then I realized they put all the articles online and its free so I cancelled my subscription. And like, I think that Dane Cook is just kind of sad. Because he's like kind of done but like won't let go. And he's a huge douche. And he is gue gue gue. None of the stuff he does is really that funny anymore. Like I feel like in forty years when the 17 year olds of the 2047 are watching "I Blank the 00's" ("love" doesn't exist in Ann Coulter's America unless you love cocaine and giving blowjobs [only for laydeez!]) someone of John Krasinski level fame will say "What ever happened to him?" and VH25 will put up a picture of 2047 Dane Cook and we (US) will look at it and think "I remember how he used to be young and have some hand symbol that looks like when people are fishing things from their assholes." And then we go back to our jobs making small metal objects that don't serve any purpose except to ensure that we are making them.

We really should have moved tables. Like I get it, you know how to talk now leave me the fuck alone.

Favorite Sentences of the Week:
1. "There's a big difference between raping somebody and just being really agressive."
2."As Oscar Wilde once said: 'I love sucking dick.'"

I <3 the new iPod commercial.

Produce Pete gets a makeover this weekend. Urban Outfitters!

"That Makes You Lord Henry Wotton"

A weekend of mixed reviews.
Saturday:
Art. I am REALLY handy, like I built a fucking stool but only because I broke another one. You might have heard about it. Also, I'm so set for P-day which is nice. Then I went into the city to hang out with Sister A. Fun. Mouse. Not so much. I also took a really big shit. Like a gargantuan.

A sidenote, and completely unrelated to shit: Borders and Barnes and Noble, get your fucking act together. And, tell your employees to stop judging and making chit-chat at the same time. That book was for my mom. If I wanted passive aggression and a bad haircut, I'd look in the fucking mirror.

Sunday:
Term paper. All day. Like, literally, all day. Done. It was so not Oscar Wild(e).

"Perfect for Parties -- Pirates AND Westerns"

In a week that had its ups (Thursday!) and its downs (Wednesday, boo! [get it?]), there was one constant: a test of wills.


TEST OF WILLS #1: The Stool v. Id A
I need to plan better/invent time machine/gravity destroyer. Want to know what happens when you mix exhaustion, 50 lbs. of plaster, water, a garbage bag, Wanda, a stool, and a lot of sweat? No, you don't. It hurts. So many cuts on my hands, which makes me look like I want to hurt myself and on Tuesday night, I kinda did. Also, Hairfan, who knew!? But anyway, it was not pretty.


TEST OF WILL #2: HOBBITLORD v. Id A
"Congratulations! You have outbid user: HOBBITLORD for item: Skeleton Keys!" That is the Little Miss Sunshine of sentences. It made me laugh and cry at the same time. But, there was more. The email I got from the seller of said Skeleton Keys (five (5)* to be more exact) on eBay trumps that: "Ahoy Matey! Thank you for your purchase. Your booty ships at sunrise-" Surprised? No. Because the description of the keys said they were just like the ones Jack used in his escape in the POTC**(!) (I didn't get what that meant at first). But like, such is life. I really hope this person doesn't turn out to be my roommate and then I can never go into my room ever again.

TEST OF WILL #3: Id A vs. Society's Definition of "Art"
So, TEST OF WILL #1 was salvaged into this really cool installation piece. Mixed reviews. The teachers are split, but all the good seniors (and I include myself in that group) love it. But like, I have to "realize the idea." 14 days to P-day. Ruh roh.

*Why does that occassionally happen? I mean, even Mexicans know what "five" means. Right?
**If you abbreviate things like this, let me ask you something. Will you look in the mirror? Do you like what you see? No? TOGETHER, you can change and maybe not be that person who sits in the back of the bus/stands near the doors of the subway/train and breathes really heavy in ten years. I thought so.

Remember that Monologue of "Trainspotting" That Ended Up in Every Dorm Ever?

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

The Japanese Porn Star Diet

I've lost five pounds (not that I've been counting or anything) since school started. It's not because I'm gettin' big with Uday Pulaski.

It's because I don't have enough time to eat.

Isn't that funny! There aren't as many hours in the day for me to feed myself. Because unless you're Josh Schwartz, no one is THAT busy.

Also, Nutrageous(es) actually makes a really good meal replacement. But not really though. I'm really hungry.

I Hope Your High Horse Gets Put Down Like That Horse That Won the Kentucky Derby (?) and Then You Won't Have A High Horse Any Longer

I realized there's nothing more annoying to me than 24-28 year old males. Like, you're not that much older than me (not as mature [and yes, that was very snobbish, but, hey, you're reading a blog.]) and like we get it, you are a dick.

Last night, this was brought to a point. Duuuude! was being such a dickface. This was after telling me twice to buy things and use them because he told me to use them, then saying that he never told me to buy things and use them and then passive agressively yelling at me because I did something wrong. I am not Idoknoman, Dickface, get over it.

And what the fuck is up with Big Shot requesting to edit my shit. Who does that? Who says "I want to edit [REDACTED]'s [REDACTED] so I can tear him apart."? You are a teacher (who still lives with his parents). We get it. But anyway, guys, I fucking wrote my little heart out, gave it to him with a smile (laced with contempt) and essentially shoved it right back at him. Don't act so defensive if you constantly feel the need to shit on 17 year olds.

But then there is "Versing?" Again, like we get it. At least you don't live at home. But like, yeah I'm not going on the [REDACTED]. Big shit. So aren't 250 other seniors. And do you honestly think that as a senior leader, me not donating to the yearbook drive is going to fuck these kids up for the rest of high school. Also, stop giving my so much goddammed work to do, I don't get paid, I'm not a babysitter.

It Sounds Like a Sad Song But Really Its Just Alt-80s Boston

So, this post is about growing up and I feel it goes best with the song "Blue Thunder" by Galaxie 500. As I sit here watching "I Love New York 2" (!) waiting for "America's Most Smartest Model" to be on, I can't help but think how different I am from a) black people b) who I used to be. That sounds really emo but like... yeah it is. But seriously things have changed. I am living for me. Just read my college essays. No seriously. ESSAYS! For COLLEGE! What fun!

But, I realized, finally, that you don't have to impress everybody all the time. For the first time, I really happy, not content because thats different, with where everything is in my life. Sure, I'vr spent over ten hours at a B-university library this week, I haven't seen my house or parents in the daytime, and I'm way behind on college apps, but it's all okay with me. I thrive under pressure anyway.

I bring this up because yesterday saw another meeting with Are They Married? and my parents and me. It was to decide what goes in my portfolio. Since this round of meetings started two weeks ago, I hadn't really heard anyone come out of it and be all happy. But, I digress. We didn't actually pick anything because... well long story short: Everything is portfolio worthy. It's really nice to get complements like that especially since its what I want to do. It's nice to have that support. It's nice to know that someone has that much faith in you. It's nice.

This is SOOOO emo. But anyway, I think my positive outlook on life is really working. I honestly didn't think it would last this long. And yes, reader(s), this is positive. I may not let everything roll off my shoulders, like the DOUCHE incident with the biggest douche ever, someone is not Yale worthy, but like I kind of only care about the people I care positively about. I think that makes sense. No?

"America's Most Smartest Model" is on. I doubt that guy is really the Denis Ivanovich (Google it!) he's making himself out to be.

She's Like a Starter Kit for Sexual Predators

You know what I hate?

People who are dumb and unattractive and the same time, yes. But also, people who get no idea that you don't like them.

Like this one girl. Like she'll put anything in her mouth. ANYTHING. Extra points if you are black. She's also loud and faux-rebellious. Two no-nos in Id A's book. Like I really don't want to talk to you, ever. Please go away. Further. Further, still.

And like, she's so desperate for male attention its repulsive. She also doesn't have an iPod. Like welcome to 2007, you piece of shit. And yes, I just judged someone because they didn't OWN something.

She also looks like the Faun from "Pan's Labyrinth" except with red hair.

She ranks up there with The Shitfucker and "kids who take gym class sports too seriously" on my Shit List. Now, if she only had the personality to merit a nickname. Sigh...

This Is Annoying

Why won't that fucking website work. I just want to see how terrible I look in my senior pictures.

I've tried the right combination of words and numbers like 100 times.

Gettin' My Swell On

Gettin' big. That's the new goal. Which I'm beginning to realize is poorly timed what with all the sitting on my ass I'll be doing writing college essays.

So yeah, that's what I'm gonna use my last year of physical education for, the swell. Uday Pulaski is my trainer. No more speedball, no more softball, just swimming and weightlifting/working out.

This sounds weird, but... here we go. I want to be secksy and adult. College is coming sooner than one would think and these things take time. I'm losing fat and gaining muscle. Hopefully.

This post was more for Id A than anyone else.

Gah! Fuck!

This has been a weird week(end) reader(s). DC sucked, a lot. The best part was standing on a street corner talking to Polo Bear and Produce Pete and The Rabbi on the phone. The rest was just terrible. Terrible! HORRIBLE!

So there was this dick at GW, not an actual penis, mind you, just a dick. Let's recap the meeting, shall we.
[Uncomfortable "One of us should say something" Silence]
Id A: What do you like to see in a portfolio?
Dick: Range...variety. And focus. (Those are like kinda different, right?)
Id A: Well I have some of my work on my camera if you wa...
Dick: Oh no! No no no no. There is a committee for that. I have like TWO minutes to show you around, okay?
Id A: ...
Then he pretty much talked about nothing really quickly for like ten minutes. I was much angrier before but, transcendance. JuSchneids was Mrs. Claus compared to this man.

In DC, though, there are a lot of very wise immigrants. Sorry, taxi drivers. Like they all had very valid things to say about life. I will "put it in God hands and be happy." Thank you, you Turkish cabbie. Mom A asked, not me. I think its rude to be like "Where are you from?"

But yeah, Friday I had the worst headache of my life. Saturday I took the SATs (for the second time) and had really fancy dinner at 105 Harbor with the family. That last part was good. But it didn't make up for the awful.

Change your profile picture Produce Pete.

Now I have a mountain of homework to get to because I am still in high school.

"I Haven't Been Liking Your Blogs as Much."

Id A: Nothing much has been blog-worthy.
V.I. Melanin: If you had more classes with me, you would have more to write about.

So yeah, I haven't been seeing as much of V.I. as I would like. That makes me sad. But yeah nothing much has been blog-worthy. And I'm not very picky.

But yeah, V.I. took a day off from C******** this week to study for the SATs with Produce Pete. (Which speaking of the SATs why can't I just take the math section again? Everything else is good. And wtFUCK?) But instead of studying, they went to the public high school. Just take a second. V.I. Melanin took off from school to go to another school. He was going to do it again this week but I guess not.

V.I. kind of has all his shit together and I'm more than a little jealous.

I just want everyone to get into their first choice and be happy. Is that so hard, God? Today was a shitty day.

Like, we're taking that trip to Yale, in November, with overcast skies.

Let's Talk About Our Feelings

Id A is all over the place (emotionally and physically) these past two days. Illadelphia was ill despite not being able to see Lightweight Paper. UPenn was a life changing experience that lasted a grand total of four hours because Dad A wanted to beat the traffic. The traffic won. I didn't go to my school or Owns Me yesterday and that felt very good. I did go to art where I was even more all over the place (just emotionally) and obsessed about thirty seconds of a 45 minute meeting. Like it's not that bad right?

But yeah, UPenn is my new love and I just don't want to be disappointed, that's understandable right? I'm confused about a lot right now. I miss freshman year a little because nothing mattered.Remember that? How easy everything was? But maybe I should shoot lower, but NYU is no NCC. Like nothing's a done deal. How far away is April? I wish I applied early. But maybe not. Again confused. No Cory Matthews sightings.

Anyway, last night I had another mini-breakthrough which felt good and put me more in a weird headspace. Even more so when Flannel Equals Me Jealous asked what Dad A thought of my totally awesome but weird drawings. Evasiveness. But anyway, its been weird.

I REALLY want to go to college but the whole application process is kind of a put-off. Like when I found out Eighth Grade Crush actually liked the movie White Chicks. And my school could not be making the teacher recommendation process more complicated. Commonapp -- two words or one?

Topanga Lawrence

So, I'm going to Philadelphia tomorrow or "illadelphia" as Lightweight Paper ironically puts it, and that got me thinking about Boy Meets World. Which made me sad, because there will never be as good a show as Boy Meets World ever. In the history of time. Not even Gossip Girl (the most important television event of our generation.)

Like, I want a Mr. Feeney. Remeber him!? Of course you do! I want a Mr. Feeney. And, all I got was a Gay Dinosaur. Remember when Topanga and Cory got married WAY too young? And it almost didn't work out? And then they had a baby? And when that black girl was on and like she was too different from everyone (because she was black) and then Sean started dating her and they broke up like 10 million times? And when Cory like "seventh grade cheated" (copyright, Id A, this blog) at that ski lodge? JER-A-MA.

Oh, and another thing. Professor Feeney!?!

Oh, and ANOTHER thing. Would you fuck me? I'd fuck me.

Id A Is Over the Ranibow

... and done with puns for now. They always seem to get him in trouble.

Anyway, http://http://www.radiohead.com/deadairspace/index.php?a=292

Hooray! Ten days! Now, if only they were on iTunes.

Aaaaapoooocolyyyyypssseeeeeee Oh7!

omg... did u c gossip grl this wk? it was lyk sooooo amazing! ;P*

But seriously, like I can feel an obsession coming on because that show is so unreal and cheesy that its the ultimate "love to hate" thing. Fool me once shame on you, Josh Schwartz. Fool me twice, shame on me.

And, are these kids supposed to be seniors in high school because like they all look 30. The blond girl could have kids in at least the fifth grade.

*I hate these.

Millón de Pequeños Pedazos

Or: A Million Little Pieces. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Uday Pulaski: How many times in the past month have you eaten Chipotle?
Id A: I dont know, maybe, like, ten times.

Holy Shit. That's a lot. Like, more than anyone should ever be eating ever. Especially if it's your only real meal in a day. But fortunately it only stays in your system for like two minutes.

I am an addict, and the first step is admitting. I can not go a week without eating a burrito. Only a burrito from Chipotle, because Taco Bell is for poor people.

My addiction has gotten so bad its effected my relationships. Or, at least the one I have with Elena (Ilena?) She knows exactly who I am and what I'm gonna order. She tries to have a conversation but I'm not the kind of person who talks. At least when they're hungry, or the other half is Hispanic. Well, 100% Hispanic. And the help.

Speaking of Mexicans, I have been SO lazy with this whole "college" deal.

Id A vs. Nothing Really*

Somehow, things feel different this year. Even though the year just started, and that normally sucks, it doesn't really suck. Maybe its because everyones like actually going somewhere else next year and not just coming back for another year of high school. I don't know.

Being a senior is actually good, like that might change once college apps start coming down to the wire (expect many posts) but for now, it's easy. I mean we'll see if I'm still in the same mood on Thursday after my five tests. But like, my day goes really quickly and like even though I have a lot of of the 11030 mob in my classes I also have a lot of people who are completely awesome.

Anyway, senior portrait tomorrow. Here's to not looking like a fucking idiot! But I totally will anyway because NO ONE looks that good in your senior portrait.

*Except Owns Me which is as shitty as ever. But why should I care, right?

I Think Someone Owes Me Some Money

Hey! Hi! Did you know that Gossip Girl is actually based on my life? Well, it totally is.*

*There is no reason for this asterisk. It totally is.

My check's in the mail, right? And the buzz. OH, THE BUZZ!

Ret's Not Be Fliends

Some Asian people are just terrible. They are TAPs, Terrible Asian People. It should really be said that when I say "people" I really mean "boys." I have yet to encounter a bad Asian female and with my call girl habit, that's saying something. And by "boys," I really mean the Lapist (the Rapist) and the Undelminel (think "Underminer" but Asian-American.)\

First, we have the Lapist. Homeschooled, natch, because he has Asperger's syndrome. Judge me. But I could have left that out. It's called the high road. It's no excuse for acting intellectually superior and annoying and rude as all shit. Or maybe, depending on what psychologist you ask. When I say he does rude things what I mean is he asks girls (most all of them) if they're on their period and he's always staring at them and being loud. His new thing is jumping in the middle of a "conversation circle" and dancing yelling something and then running away. He has repeatedly asked me if I wanted a massage and after every time saying no, he has decided that I do in fact need one. Right now. It's gotten to the point where I just walk away when ever he comes over to me. Also, he totally grabbed Wanda's boob. Like, he said there was something on her shirt. He's fucking annoying and creepy. If you met him, you would hate him as much as I do.

Then there is the Undelminel. Which I realized sounds German, but hey, let's roll with it. The Undelminel is kind of the opposite of the Lapist in that he hates women. I have never met someone in my entire life who seriously goes out of their way to tell girls only how much better he is than them. Only once has he pulled this shit on me.
Id A: Oh hey, how was your summer?
Undelminel: Oh well you know I was at Cornell over the summer (I didn't) and it was sooooo much fun there. I really learned a lot and got a lot of work done. And like the best part was that we lived in the dorms so it was like college. It was just so freeing (his words) to be away from my parents (which I'm not surprised because, Asian parents are fucking intense) and to be away. How was yours?
Id A: It was good. Like I worked here over the summ...
Undelminel: I'm so glad I didn't have a job this summer. Like I haven't had a job ever. But it doesn't really matter because like since I did this program, I'm already like in Cornell. Yeah I'm definitely applying there. Look at this funny pictures I took!
(forced picture viewing and fake smiles ensue. My and Wanda's cheeks hurt. Like ever picture had this long, drawn-out explanation. So flash forward to five minutes later.)
Undelminel: Hey Wanda can I borrow this?
Wanda: Sure, its no problem.
Undelminel: Oh, I really like what you're doing.
Wanda: Yeah I just kinda want to get black and white drawings done. But like this is...
Undelminel: I know what you mean. But like luckily black and white drawings just sort of come naturally to me. I guess its just a talent I have. Thanks for the charcoal!
Right, like what a douche. I have more stories than that. Then he followed me and Wanda around during break and just totally wanted to be besties with us. P'shah.

Combined, these two are like one slanty-eyed nemesis. It all stems from the fact that they are both also, only children. They also both kind of suck

Don't Trust Anyone With a Snooch

OR: Why Girls Are Weird. This is directly related to Produce Pete situation with Produce Pam. What would management say!

Like seriously though. What the fuck is up with vagina owners. (That includes the he-she Britney fan.) Like one thing just makes them all mad and like double you tee FUCK.

I feel like I need a woman's perspective but really who are we kidding. No girls read this blog. Maybe just Wanda that one time I mentioned I started a blog and then like a week later she almost died. Which I probably would have blogged about because it would be one of those deaths that like in five years you would look back on and be like "If there's anyway to go, I want to go out like THAT." Except without all the fists. (That sounds really dirty and no, I won't clarify.)

But anyway, like, girls, we guys do some stupid things. And you do too. I mean like we're in high school. Some victimless crimes. Or super-victimsless because we didn't even know we'd want to tap that ass at the time. Also, like, we're in high school. And its not like this sat around for months and it was all serious. And did I mention we're in high school. And like Laguna Beach wasn't real.

But anyway, Produce Pete, I hope she comes to her senses. I know how tender and gentle a lover you can be. What with that baby soft skin. And the hair! I can talk to her if you want. Oh, you don't. Like I really think I might be able to... Alright.

Oh, and one last thing. I hope to be blogging regularly but last week it seemed I was never home and awake for more than twenty minutes. And, fucking college apps. Expect a post soon on how much I hate those and two Asians I know. Flied Lice?

Yeah, Yeah. FUCKING PULL THAT SHIT.

Oh, you like that shit huh?

Then you should have been there. If only so Uday Pulaski and I had someone else to talk to because I sure as shit wasn't getting involved in any wars. ESPECIALLY if they involved tugging.

Maybe that's why the Bulldog Brigade won. Fancy that. I'm a winner!

But anyway... there was shit that happened after...

Everybody vs. The Shitfucker

It has been a while, kids, hasn't it? Daddy's sorry he wasn't there when you hit the home run. Good for you, pal!

SO anyway. Owns Me was embroiled in full fledged war this week. The usual players. There was physical violence. It was also the most hilarious physical violence ever. Just picture a walrus trying to eat a penguin but instead of the penguin running a way he's just laughing. Which reminds me, our Friend, Royale With Cheese wll now be known as Art Vandal-ay. Good one Polo Bear. Maybe you shouldn't have stolen it and maybe I shouldn't have forgotten.

Shitfucker eventually came to his very limited senses and decided to reach an accord with the Worker Bees. We fucking won though because we totally got the satisfaction of the Shitfucker acknowledging that he fucks shit and is just a general terrible person.

Other shit happened too.

EVERYBODY RUN!

You know what I was thinking about today? You don't have a choice either way. Fucking read.

Fire drills are really just miniature purveyors of our culture of fear. Think about it, I mean since like the age of 5 we have been educated 1984-style to respond to a bell and not talk if said bell should go off. That's why there's always more than one fire drill a year. Its to train us to file out so we leave under the hegemony of bells and panic of being burned alive.

Is anyone else watching the VMAs right now?

The Kan and Fitty presented together which means that the beef is over! The BEEF IS OVER! Finally, we can live safely in a world of peace and understanding. Nobel much?

Fucking Chris Brown. I hope he gets raped or something where he'll be really damaged psychologically. Like accidently sleeping with his mother. Yeah, THAT.

Fun Party Suprise Times

The Schmelter turned 17 today, but yesterday there was a surprise party. I mean like he was surprised but like it was seven or eight people hiding behind chairs with beach towels on them. Not very subtle. You because I can't leave my house without tripping over chairs with beach towels on them. We should have hid better. But we would all have to pee. It's a conundrum.

Pool Times. Noodle Fight. The Game. Broken Raft. Lousy Chicken. Hanging Around.

Two parties within one party. Clique much?

P-much.

Id A vs. Children vs. Capitalism vs. General Malaise

I think this picture really sums up yesterday's shopping adventure. It was shitty.

Like I know that it's wrong to steretype people especially if they're not black, but Indian people fucking stink. They smell bad. Or at the very least, the Indian people who were at Staples yesterday. So, really, every Indian person in H---------. Filthy filthy people.

I know this because I was at Staples last night. And, if you go to a Staples in the first week of September you will: (a) find nothing ,(b) encounter only FOUR employee and three open registers, and (c) wait in line with I'm guessing 200 other people who would rather be watching Made or something. Also, children. Lots and lots of children. Shitslices. Also, I would appreciate if whatever child that threw his or her used tissue on the floor never do that again. Some of us wear flip flops.

And, jeez, who invited all the class? It was like a Larry the Cable Guy show in there (if you happened to be white, which, in all honesty, was really only like 20 people).

And, natch, I had to take a huge shit the WHOLE time.

You might be asking yourself "Id A, why did you wait until yesterday to buy your notebooks?" The answer: Apparently, I am an adult now and it was my responsibility to get it done. That's bullshit, I'm 17. Do you hear me Mom A? And no it wasn't "like forty bucks." Not when you HAVE to buy a $90 calculator(!).

Id A is Happy Sad Angry Powerless

Yeah, that was the first day of school. I promise to elaborate later. But for now... 1984!

A Rip in the Time-Space Continuum

You guys, this is an extraneous post. There was a moment today- right now in fact- when "100 Greatest Kid Stars" on VH1 and "50 Cutest Chil Stars: All Grown Up" on E! were on at the same time. They were even talking about the same person for like 15 seconds.

Then my TV collapsed in on itself and the walls of my house melted.

This moment is the apocolypse.

Oy!

Me and my four readers have school tomorrow. When will I find the time to dance by myself? WHEN?

But anyway, last night was much appreciated (because after the quest for fire-- I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed.) even though I didn't drink/smoke anything. Except for the ONE cigarette because, you know, hipsters. I can't even ash properly. I use both hands. I am pathetic.

Tomorrow, Owns Me kicks off another year and yeah, not looking forward to having to do work so I'm gonna see how long I can go without doing any. You in Royale? Layout, everybody run! (Ed. note: I'm in charge, I'll do what I want.)

More Voyager!

!!!

Expect a full report tomorrow on *shudder* my last first day of high school. EVER.

Is it Christmas yet?

Sidenote: I'll cut it with the camera guys. Flash is not my friend.

Natty Plight

Id A: Their king has arrived.

In pink and grey t-shirt from Urban (which, yeah, I shop at but I don't buy the t-shirts that say shit on them because I am not a bro) that says "DON'T QUIT"and a perfectly distressed sideways hat, no less. He left the pooka shells at home. Cue: Hushed reverence. I'm calling him the king, even though his name is probably Nathan/Ian/Jake, because all the other bros stopped talking when he walked in. Like mid-word. Like, if "I was totally gonna funnel that Natty with Brandon" was finished then they all would've "thrown down." Rape(!)(?)

Uday Pulaski, Id A, literally, not even joking, same time: He should quit life. (Because, you know, like, suicide = totally funny.)

Seriously, it was the biggest bro-fest I have ever witnessed. But not the most bros I've seen in one place, there were only like seven of them. ONLY SEVEN! And of course, it all happened in the classiest joint in town, the Taco Bell on Sunrise Highway. And like, these bro's were totally younger than us and therefore definitely couldn't drive which means their moms had to DROP THEM OFF AT A TACO BELL AT LIKE 10:30. Which also means they had to be picked up from a Taco Bell at like 11. I can only imagine the phone call, probably on one of the walkie-talkie cell phones that are a annoying because annoying people use them and how hard is it to hit send when you go into your phone book on a regular cell phone?

Needless to say, we got the hell out of Dodge. And then I saw another bro from a different bro pack, I'm assuming, fall off his bike. It is so cute that you ride a bike! Presh! Do you think the two groups had like Jets-Sharks fight in the Taco Bell later? That would have been fun.

Strike First, Strike Hard, No Mercy, Sir! Part the Fourth

It's over! We did it, gang! We fucking did it! Last night I fell asleep at 11:30 I was so tired! What's that you say? Was it worth it? Eh. Still on the fence.

Overall the Jedi are a good group except for those mentioned previously. Those whom I will never have to speak to ever again. EVER. I threw The Stache out of an orientation week soccer game yesterday. That's how big of a douchebag he is. He can't even stop being his pessimistic self even when the Jedi are about to win. And the tall kids are definitely on my side. That being said, it seems in this frosh group either you were really tall or really short (more on the short side.) Like we were that small? (Ed Note: "Were" meaning "three years ago")

Now that its all over, the next step is actually visiting the kids during the year. And, by kids, I really mean like six of them. Spawn stop talking!

If we didn't play those games in the library there was really no reason to even be there yesterday. They knew where they what they were doing. The Schmelter and I trained them well. Me'11 was even doing a head count when I was late. Grasshoppers.

Michel (now known as Danny DeVito) has a twin. And he totally looks like someone who has a twin. Like, just imagine the twin-est looking person you know.

Also, though I'm not really the type to volunteer service. What am i say not really? I've never volunteered service before, but I really want to work the freshman dance. I think I caught "it" from the nicest people ever, the other SL 1J-ers.

COBRA KAI!

Strike First, Strike Hard, No Mercy, Sir! Part the Third

Orientation week is almost over. Just tomorrow. No sightings of V.I. Melanin though Tuesday's Polo Bear 7-11 trip was much appreciated.

THE BRIEFING:

So, Michel and The Stache Update: Still, douchey. Still unaware of their own douchiness. I HATE THEM. Like, I REALLY HATE THEM. It's hard to feel bad for them. (Even Royale With Cheese [who is also among the nicest people I have ever met in my life, except when it come to Shitfucker {we'll get to him later}] had this to say: "I just don't get where he comes off. You can't be that pompous as a freshman." (Ed. note: In all seriousness, you have to earn a sense of superiority or else you just end up like the 11030 Mob.)

So, Freshman Best Friend Update: Electric Bugaloo still dancing and presumably still smoking six packs a day. Scrappy Doo and Me '11 have almost edged out Electric Bugaloo, almost. The tall kids are starting to like me. Success!

The kid who broke his wrist (heretofore know as Pity Party) came back. I still felt really bad because like he couldn't even hold a pen so someone had to write his name in his Bible for him. Pity PARTY!

Spawn, stop talking and corrupting Mountain Lion.

Drink Me! was super nice to SL 1J today. Which is surprising because normally the only time he goes out of his way to talk to a student is when he has an erection. He did it boner-free today. Good job, Drink Me!.

Despite my Bobby Knight-esque coaching skills, the Jedi have only won one game. Tomorrow, the (w)reckoning.

Strike First, Strike Hard, No Mercy, Sir! Part the Second

I actually said that today to one of the tadpoles. A tadpole whose cousin is an a-hole. More progress, more swearing. Seriously, if I had a nickel for everytime I said "Fuck" today, I wouldn't have to work 3C. I would own my high school because I would have so many nickels and I'm sure this will payd off in the long run, right?

Also, it was my dream to get a freshman best friend (Electric Bugaloo) and a freshman enemy (success! there's two: Michel and The Stache.) I also walked away with a sophomore enemy (Staff Infection) and Kevin the Red has been upgraded (downgraded?) to frenemy status. Normally, I wouldn't shit on someone I didn't know (unless your name is Kelly Anne and your interests include "hookin' up"), but I mean, seriously Michel and The Stache? Really? Like it's only your second day of high school and you are so far behind you might as well just quit now. And they aren't even friends with each other so they can't even rely on each other's patheticism. Cut the shit and I don't like sass, The Stache. Also, razors are neither expensive nor hard to use. You look ridiculous. Your parents must hate you. And Michel, just from looking at you I can tell you are an only child and both of your parents have always worked in the city and they probably don't speak to you much because they just don't want to answer your questions about what they're jobs are like because they're too angry because they never see each other and the counseling only made matters worse and you are their son and they're stuck with you and your never directly looking at anything EVER and seriously, you didn't realize there were no girls? I probably won't speak to you ever again just to avoid hurting myself.

Reason why Electric Bugaloo is my new best friend: He and his friends video tape themselves break dancing and then post them on Youtube under "partyboysproductions." That is, when he isn't to busy with karate or drumming. How could I not?

Today was not as bad as yesterday, thank God. Mostly because of a game of war and then bullshit. And fuck you Staff Infection, Electric Bugaloo was totally in the end zone already.

Strike First, Stike Hard, No Mercy, Sir! Part the First

There are some really intense fourteen year olds out there and I just imagined a bunch of them stating--nay, demanding-- that before I led them into Dodge. I go to a retarded Catholic high school that has A LOT OF MONEY (blind item!) and I, Id A, Class of 2008, am working the Class of 2011 orientation. Which is a week long. Because my school is, in addition to being wealthy and retarded, fucking retarded.*

This whole day was long and hot and exhausting and sad. First, I thought I lost a kid (more specifically a Korean kid, which in my school... what I guess I'm saying is that being Korean, or, rather, just un-white, is kind of like being one of the coloreds in the movie Pleasantville. Everyone kind of avoids you at first because you're different from them and they just not used to having all those goddam coloreds around, but then they just realize that maybe being colored [like in Pleasantville, not like, Rosa Parks] is just a-okay!) But it turned out he didn't even show up, so, point Id A. And point Nyunhoon (Joseph) Na. Like, that's how it was on the attendance sheet. I swear.

Then, all the freshmen hated me because I wasn't as good a coach at volleyball/dodgeball as The Schmelter, but then I realized something. The more you just make fun of people and say "fuck" and "douche" the more some 14 year olds will like you. TRY IT! IT WORKS!

Then, I made a joke about retards that got a laugh and then they finally started talking. (Note to self: Only ten of them are actually named Mike or Con(n)or!) Also, I'm pretty sure God doesn't a lisp. Because if he (sorry, He) did, JeSuS? Really?

Tomorrow, another day, another dispatch.

*Just to give you some reference, my junior-year Christian Humanism teacher, and unfortunate moderator this week said this (direct quote)**: "Ninety-percent of gay relationships fail because of a tragedy like AIDS or breaking up the relationship."

**You might be saying "Id A, how do you know that's a direct quote if junior year was at least two and a half months ago? Huh?" I wrote it down literally as he was saying it and then it just sort of played over in my head, Clockwork Orange-style.

Fucking Poor People.

No, seriously, you guys, I am like such a good person. Yesterday, I was with Lightweight Paper, Pony Party, and Thought Thief in Huntington Village. (Ed. note: That may just be one of my least favorite places on Long Island. Just, not a fan.) More specifically, outside Wild By Nature. So yeah. Anyway, we're chatting about how they're all leaving for college and Figure It Out, naturally, and this black lady pulls up next to us in her minivan (sad.) You see, she's driving out east and has no money for gas (!) and asks us for some. I was pinned down because I was closest to her and she was LOOKING AT ME THE WHOLE TIME while giving her schpeel (in a Southern accent or maybe she just goes to church in a basement, either-or) and I just wanted her to go away because... (well, you know). Long story short, I, Id A, gave her ten whole U.S. dollars. Right? Like, I know. She told me that God was watching over me and that I was such a "nice young man." SAD! Then this... like the second she put her (sad) minivan back into drive...

Id A: I hope she doesn't buy meth with that.
Pony Party: I guess I've just grown to ignore homeless people.
Lightweight Paper, Thought Thief: Yeah, definitely.

I LOVE US!

No, seriously, get a job poor people. You are gross.

Back to the Gulag

Or: The Reunion of the Two Greatest (and Most Pretentious) People... EVER

So yeah, yesterday was the annual summer Owns Me (or: the paper) meeting and let me just say it would have been a total "SHITFEST '07" had it not been for standing outside in the rain with Royale With Cheese and V.I. Melanin who was sporting a new messenger bag that he totally bought from a Hollister-type (read: Banana Republic) store.

Id A: Do I have to get to know the underlings' names or can I just assign them numbers? (Ed. note: Like in a concentration camp.)
V.I. Melanin: I know, we're so much better than they.

This little snippet of conversation pretty much sums up my friendship with V.I. Melanin. Because, he brings that side out in me. Also, it is, for the most part, true. Especially if they can't hear us talking about "them."

Also, this little gem which was overheard during dinner:

V.I. Melanin: WE'RE NOT DEBATING, WE'RE GENERATING DISCOURSE!

One more year left, better cram my obnoxiousness and bigotry all in before college.*

*I know, RIGHT!

Ew. (Decide Which!)

Produce Pete: I was hungover this morning.
Id A: I have nothing to say about that. That is a first for me.
Produce Pete: Do I get a reward or something? Like a blowjob where you actually seem interested.
Id A: Yeah, because normally, you know, sooooo bored. Like, I'm thinking about like what's gonna happen on The Hills.
Produce Pete: So about that...
Id A: I think this personal growth for me.
Produce Pete: (...)
Id A: My penis, I'm talking about my penis. But I'm curious to know what's goin' down south of your navel.
Produce Pete: Water.

Get it. Because ships are in the navy and they go on water? That was the worst joke ever. Ew.

Samesies Sex Marriage

Let's recap the night of August 17, 2007, shall we...

Id A needed food.

(Welcome to Camry)

Uday (You Mention Me A Lot) Pulaski needed green tea because he's only drinking green tea and water. (Sidebar: Id A has only had water for the past month.)

Produce (You Need To Mention Me More) Pete needed a belt. I literally gave him the one I was wearing because I AM SUCH A GOOD FRIEND.

Johnny and Gio needed "some shit to get fuckin' hammahed, ya know?". Id A then imagined the lives they share because it looked like they were on a date since they were both sitting the backseat of a car alone and we didn't see them with anyone else the rest of the night. They also didn't like us because Produce Pete caved to Uday's and Id's peer pressure and put his brights on them in the "fuggin' pahking lawt." They are my new best friends. Uday will probably bump into them in Montreal (where Id A wants a t-shirt from) because Johnny and Gio want to celebrate their love the way a "conventional" couple does by getting married. We almost sat next to them at....

Superbad which needed nothing. It was awesome.

FRIENDLY'S!!! (Story about Nipple Rings to be told at a later date.)

Sexual tension. Like, more than you would think.

Id A demanded to know who "Number One" is. Seriously, I'm number two?(!)

That was pretty much it. But more shit happened.

P.S. Id A has no idea why the time stamps on every post are off by like at least three hours ALWAYS.

Id A Is a TOTAL Whore

...for compliments. And gazpacho* if you have some. Specifically, mellon and cucumber topped with lobster. Yesterday was the biggest squee-fest in honor of him ever. (I know, enough with the third person. Maybe I should speak in first person plural like Uday Pulaski who totally has the most blog mentions despite the fact that he owns me money.)

Floppy Pony Tail and The Coot (collectively known as: Are They Married?) praised me like I had threatened to deport them unless they worked at my apple orchard in the blazing heat for no pay. They were down right subservient. When The Coot saw one of my drawings (drawings, no less!) I heard him say "Oh, Jesus." (not a pseudonym) And it wasn't like "Oh, Jesus. Another cat died." It was more like "Oh Jesus. I never thought something could be so beautiful!"

Are They Married? left me smiling and not an uncomfortable smile like when The Coot says something really terrible about Latinos. Different generation. Plus I mean, they ARE lazy. But seriously, even I was offended and I'm white(st). Like they told me eveything I wanted to hear and more. And you're saying "Id A, isn't that pandering?" Yes, it is. I loved it.

So, yeah, future. It's gonna be a wild and crazy year. My doctor may have his answer. Because he totally remembers me. Much as you remember that post. Adieu!

BONUS: Has anyone seen that part of The Hills (you totally watch it too) where Lauren talks to her mom about Heidi (SHIT BE GOIN' DOWN) and they say "LA" like 5249 times. That made me smile, too. Because its nonsense. The whole show.

*I love gazpacho. It's just a fact.

Fuck You, GIllette

I love not shaving. It has got to be one of my favorite things in the world. Only emphasized by the fact that I have an extemely heavy beard for someone my age. (Not as heavy as Uday Pulaski's, but I mean, does anyone?)

Not shaving saves me so much time because, when I shave, I do it right. I'm talking like not shaving for a week. That way people will be able to see the hair on your face and not thing your just going through puberty and haven't learned yet because your dad's not really in the picture and this all seems kind of redudant because seriously, how hard is shaving? If you've seen the Super Bowl, then you should know how to shave a face.*

I like rubbing my jaw and stroking my chin as though I'm making REALLY important decisions. Beware: I was stuck in traffic doing that today and this woman pulled up to me and gave me a really dirty look. I think she was just jealous. (Right, Kelly Anne!? [see previous post]) I like touching my chin (shit is a jungle) with my upper lip. Basically, I like looking like an American Apparel model, if only for the fact that it makes me look like a hipster even though calling yourself a hipster negates the fact that you are a hipster. Williamsburg.

Alas, I will have to shave tomorrow. Apparently, I'm corporate now.

*By, the way, I read somewhere that its totally "hotter (!)" to be au naturel down there, so... uh... that's some advice if your like me and your afraid of cutting SOMETHING.**
**Shaky hands. From all the meth, naturally.

Id A Has a New Non-Personal Nemesis

In that I have never actually met this person, but we are foes. This person joins the ranks of Tom Cruise, Michelle Malkin (Google it!) and Carlos Mencia (we get it, "beaners")

Congratulations Kelly Anne from the Real World: Sydney (yeah, I saw it,) you are a shithead! You may be hot even though you probably did a lot of terrible things with your mouth in high school so that guys would like you and then you convinced yourself all the other girls were just jealous of you because you had lost your virginity to a senior when you were a freshman because you blossomed earlier than all the rest of them who still had their "promise rings" on in the Texas high school where football was really important but you weren't a cheerleader because you're too indifferent to care about anything other than yourself except for, and I'm only guessing here, "hooking up." You probably also say "I just don't get why she doesnt like me, y'know?" ALOT.

Also, just from one episode I can tell you are a racist. Am I right Parisa/the-girl-who-is-way-too-smart-for-this-show? Not a racist like where you hate but are kind of just distrustful of anybody who is not white.

Also, you are from Texas, my undoubtedly least favorite state.

Lastly, you seem like type of person who thinks they should be liked by everyone.

Gooty-Goo-Goo

Id A: I don't think I could ever do porn.
Uday Pulaski: I'm too tired for this.

So, yeah, there's that. And this.

Like, I just think porn is kind of the funniest/saddest thing to watch EVER*. Especially if like you're watching soft-core porn on Cinemax and you know you're parents are still home and like when are they gonna go to bed? (Channel 372 for those of you with Cablevision iO)

But between the acting and the costumes and the names and the dialogue and the plots (YES, plots) I wouldn't be aroused, just amused. Like I heard some actor say (the context was a threesome) "And you get to watch." But, he said it like it was a punishment (unless you're into that) and that's ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT. The entire time, "Why did he say it like that? "Get to watch"?" I mean, I know you're not watching for the acting, but like, they're not even gonna try to act or write a script.

So much of porn is just kind of un-sexy. And you know that if you heard those people whining on Real Sex: Going Down in the Valley. Which you totally watched. First of all there's like all these people around and since you're the guy, they'll be talking about your penis, good or bad (which no one likes, unless you're into that.) You're essentially just a prop and your probably doing "it" on like a cactus in a coyote costume (yes, I did see that Entourage, thank you.) And cum shots, (which I earnestly thought was one word) in my opinion are always gross. NO questions. Unless your into that. Which is totally cool. No seriously, don't feel weird. I won't judge you. I guess we all have our own sexual deviances. Not that you're a sexual deviant or anything. I should have said uh, uhm, peculiarities. Why do you have a boner right now? Oh, right, you're thinking about cum shots (two words (!)), aren't you?

Maybe, I'm just too much of a realist to do porn. But, I mean there are free AIDS tests and who doesn't appreciate those? Takers? Anyone? Just another MTV statistic, eh?

*I'm excluding Little Miss Sunshine in that. Naturally.

Sidebar: Number of times I typed "pron": 6

I Have Too Much Free Time At Work.

Today, I was really bored at work, more than usual. I was so bored that for the second time this summer, I just imagined people I knew bald. (TRY IT! IT'S FUN! YEAH!)

Also, I watched and episode of 30 Rock and made it an "Alt-Eighties-Tuesday" with the idPod.

Then I just sat on the floor for about an hour not even thinking about anything.

Pretty exciting and eventful day. No?

Oh and I got all the work that was assigned to me done, so, y'know, I'm not a complete waste.

It's Exactly Like a GPS System, Only, It's Retarded.

Overheard in the city:

"Yeah, I'm like near a tattoo place."

Congratualtions, Blond Girl Talking on Cell Phone WAY TOO LOUDLY, you just described every single place below 14th Street and above Houston. I hope that guy who you're thinking about getting serious with but for now are just seeing if you guys could be friends because you don't want to jump into a relationship SO quickly never found you. I hope you're still out there. And, if he did find you, I wish you luck in getting the cum out of your hair because you are totally that girl, Sienna Miller Lite.

"BRIGHT FUTURES DIMMED" Would be the Headline In Newsday and then just CARNAGE PHOTOS*

The ultimate tale from the road. The time: 10 P.M. The place: "Shady Street", Glen Cove. The incident:

Polo Bear and I had just gotten out of the movies and we were both hungry. We were in Glen Cove which, despite its picturesque name that conjures up images of suburban splendor by some very nice little harbor where the sun sets behind sailboats, is really just ghetto. Not as bad as Hempstead, though.

Sidenote: One time when I crossed from Garden City to Hempstead, (AND EVERYONE KNOWS WHEN THAT HAPPENS) the first thing I saw was two dogs fighting over a piece of meat. Like just on the sidewalk, casually, like this sort of thing is an every day occurrence. They were really going at it. Barking and biting, RUMBLIN'. It was gross.

So anyway, Polo Bear and I are at the SHADIEST PLACE EVER/Wendy's. And I'm a little fuzzy on the details but maybe I missed the drive-thru lane. (?) So we, more specifically I, go back to try again but instead of making a wide turn into the left lane of the right side of the street, I hang a sharp left INTO THE NEAREST LANE. I drove Wesley Snipes** on the wrong side of the road. In the dark. In Glen Cove. With a bunch of cops around. For like three seconds. It was still the scariest thing ever because one SUV passed us. I was literally shaking so bad I couldn't eat or drink or really even talk. I could've ended the lives of two very smart, talented, young men. After less than a month of driving full-time. Guilt much? P'sha.

I hope these three entries have inspired my readers to exercise caution and act responsibly behind the wheel of an automobile. Because THAT is what I'm doing this for. But, seriously I could've died.

*Because you know that every time there's a fatal accident on Long Island (bonus points if still in high school/on way to baptism/wedding/soup kitchen) the front page editors just giggle and throw confetti in the air.***
**If you're curious, WHICH YOU TOTALLY ARE, it's because my car is black on the outside and inside, "Wayne Brady." Also, I am a HUGE racist.
***That was in poor taste.

Tanning Apparently Makes You More "Entitled", Not "Attractive"

So, as was promised, here is one of my favorite tales from the road. Royale With Cheese tells it almost as good as I do and he wasn't even there.

And that's how this story begins: LEARNING(!). It was early October, the sun was high and the day was that warm where like you could where shorts and a t-shirt but it doesn't feel right because you've been in school for a month and when is actually going to feel like fall so I can stop thinking about summer?

Dad A is with me and we're driving around the "'hood" in his large German car. I'm approaching a stop sign and there are two cars parked on side, I am halfway between them. There is another car parked on the other side of the street. Suddenly, a blue Honda Civic comes ROARING onto the street, almost hitting MY DAD'S CAR. Tan Bitch (early twenties, of course) stops at my window and yells at my mouth "ARE YOU FUCKING RETARDED!?" My reply, you ask? "Heyheywoopsokay!" Just like that, like one long word. But then I realized that totally would not have been my fault. Right? Like how was I to avoid that? No possible way, right?

And so, a new catchphrase was born. A new experience had and another person despised. You are that person, Tan Bitch who I am going to assume lives on Birchwood Park Drive. Fuck you.

Goes Well With the Crack in the Windshield

Id A feels bad. Today, when I was getting gas for Wesley Snipes (the car, not the tax-evader) I had my first real fender bender. I say "real" because those people at 110 & Jericho were "totally cool about it," i.e. they had somewhere to be. But today, this man had nowhere to be, because he works at a motherfucking gas station like the stupid immigrant that he is. Yeah, i know that's insensitive but so was he, also, I am not as big a douche as he will always be because I'm not mad at the world because the American dream hasn't worked out for me and now I'm working at this FUCKING gas station in Plainview.

So there was this big fuel truck filling up the underground tanks with oil and he was blocking my usual pump, the one that you can just pull up to and don't have to maneuver and shit because that's hard. So, I do some of the things I was apparently taught in Driver's Ed (who knew!?) but only I hit this stupid cement barricade that's retardedly painted like metal so the gas station can fool people into thinking they're running one classy joint. Long story short, I shattered my front blinker. Long stroy even shorter, Suresh must mean "douche" in Hindi.

As soon as he saw me go into reverse he was watching me like I was a black person in any store. After the "incident" he runs over and screams in his Indian accent "You get the FUCK OUT OF MY GAS STATION! Who gave you your license and your car?" My reply, you ask? "I know, I know." Like he had just told me that cookies are super-fun(!). Than the other people there looked at me really judgementally and one of them was driving a minivan so, how embarrassing! Then when I went to get back on the road somebody honked at me. Great.

THINGS I WISH I HAD SAID:
"THE STATE OF NEW YORK WHERE I WAS BORN, SIR!"
"Look, it was an accident. Your solid piece of cement is FINE!"
"You are a douche."

Dad A didn't seem that mad though, so Win?

This brings up another "incident" that I have relived with Royale With Cheese many a time. Except this one totally wasn't my fault. I will leave you all with that. Tomorrow, another tale.

S-H-U-T-D-O-W-N

[Uday Pulaski pulls a sticker off of a water bottle]

Uday Pulaski: I love sticky things.
Produce Pete: I don't. Actually, I HATE them.
Id A: That's a lie.
Produce Pete: Well. there is ONE thing.
Id A: Really, is it my cum-covered penis?
Produce Pete: Actually, maple syrup.
Uday Pulaski: [...]
Produce Pete: [...]
Id A: [...]

GREAT NIGHT! Made even better by Cuban Jesus.

Desperate Youth, Not-So-Thirsty Babes

Previously: A quarter-Jew (quarter as in 1/4. not money, YOU BIGOT) was named Mort Zuckerman.

Id A: Did you read the thing about old people?
Mort Zuckerman: Yeah, when am I gonna be in it?
Id A: When we have a conversation witty enough.
Mort Zuckerman: I'm too drunk.
Id A: Also, I realized there's already someone called Mort Zuckerman, so your name's been changed to The Rabbi.
The Rabbi: YAY!
Id A: This is getting posted.
The Rabbi: You're a posted.

That was The Rabbi, and that's pretty much how he is all the time. Really.

Binoculars? BINOCULARS!?

Id A had a very bizarre dream last night. One that I think trumps the "driving-my-pillow-(like a boogie board)-getting-pulled-over-for-speeding" dream.

I am with Sister A and we are seeing a documentary about Brazil (?). I say "I hope the say thing that happened to South America happens to Africa. Y'know, so people will want to go there." Sister A: "That would be really good for the future." I have to go to the bathroom, only it's one GIANT room with separate stalls for different genders. Inside the stalls is all the regular shit-- it is, being a movie theatre bathroom, kind of dirty-- except for a switch that makes the glass door go opaque. Anyway, I'm pissing (standing up, THANK YOU) and hear this noise but ignore because I have to REALLY pee. I zip up and there's this lady in safari gear with binoculars examining the toilet paper dispenser IN THE STALL WITH ME. I turn around really fast and scream "Wha! Wha? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN HERE YOU PSYCHO BITCH!" She looks at her super-tall husband (who isn't in the stall but looking over the wall because HE IS JUST THAT TALL) and she says in a Fargo-accent "Uh-oh. He spotted me." all calm-like. I rush out of the stall.

Everything is spinning and blurry at this point and there is a rather large African-American gentleman who says in a really deep voice "Shit, you all right?" I start banging into the walls and shit like that and finally I put my head down at the sink and start laughing/crying "She was--- she was--- she was in the stall when I was PEEING!"

BOOM! Dream Ends. Was it the cause of all this fracas?

Hearing Aids. Orthopedic Shoes. Floppity Genitalia.

So today, I saw this show called "Mad Men" and it has all these really sexy people and they all are in sexy '60s close and they are young sexy and have sex a lot. I know this show is fictional and all, but I couldn't help but think "Wow these people would be really old now. Like they're vaginas would be all cob-webby and there penises (first time I've actually typed that word and I REALLY wasn't sure how many -es's there should be) would be all wrinkly and just gray pubes galore."

But then I thought, "Like even the actors playing their kids would be old enough to be all saggy and disgusting and old."

And then I realized that I really FUCKING HATE ALL OLD PEOPLE (except for my grandma and grandpa -- they give me money!). It's not because I see them as a drain on society, because doesn't everybody?, but it's because they act so entitled. And it's not just because I HATE when people pay for cantaloupes or some easily chewed fruit with coupons but it's because I am busy. I am too busy to hear about "the war" or how things are so much more expensive and seriously that cantaloupe is like 87 cents, can't you just pay in cash -- ney, change?

But above old people I really hate it when pretty much old people talk about how old they are. Again, I am busy and you're deteriorating vision/back/general physical health is of no interest to me.

In closing, old(ish) people = FUCKING TERRIBLE.

Dr. Shill

Since when did doctors become TERRIBLE high school guidance counselors? Seriously, I'm just curious.

Dr. "Every Choice is a Life Choice": Ok, your breathing is normal, hearing good. [abruptly] If it's between getting in trouble with mom or"he doesn't look so drunk", which do you choose?
Id A: (...)
Dr. "Every Choice is a Life Choice": (...)
Id A: (...)
Dr. "Every Choice is a Life Choice": Would your mother be mad if you called her at 3 AM?
Id A: (...)
Dr. "Every Choice is a Life Choice": Do YOU want ME to tell HER about a contract?
Id A: Um, no. I don't think so.
Dr. "Every Choice is a Life Choice": Wow, so going into 12th grade! Any idea what school you want to got to? I went to Penn.
Id A: (...)

And then, I coughed. Twice.

I used to say TMI. Is "Don't go there!" still popular?

Introductory element I wish to never hear again:

"In a radio address taped before his colonoscopy today, President Bush said..."

If i wanted to know what was going on inside the president's colon, I would ask John McCain!
(Trombone wah-WAHs)

"... and I would read it every day."

"Welcome to 1998, enjoy the Fubu gear."

Lets talk about things. Anything. People I know (with pseudonyms!), people I don't. Objects, ideas, thoughts. Read, comment, enjoy.

This blog, it's kind of like that...