Waiting on the Bus

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Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Back for my yearly update

Posted by Steven on August 23, 2012

First off I’d just like to establish that your eyes–which are undoubtedly bleary, bloodshot and fatigued from spending hours surfing the net for personal and professional reasons and the stress that comes with trying to ward off the monotony of everyday life–do not deceive you. This is my first blog entry in nearly a year and therefore I figured my rabid, impatient fan base deserved some kind of explanation for my prolonged absence. One of my online etiquette pet peeves is when the author or creator of a blog or YouTube channel I enjoy suddenly stops producing contest, either altogether or at a reduced rate, and just expects the audience to accept this new reality without explanation, figuring people who truly appreciate their work at an artistic level will eagerly consume whatever they write or put to video without question. However I’ve always been a person that asks “why” before anything else and tried to be as open as possible on here.

With this in mind , I haven’t been able to give much thought to writing here because since November I’ve been preoccupied doing some freelance writing on the web and I’ve been reluctant to post any creative writing I have done of late because I’d like to eventually publish it in a book of some form (along with expanded versions of some of the entries currently in this blog.) Thus from this point forward I suspect the blog will focus more on reviewing various things that I think haven’t been dissected to death on the internet, as well as short random musings more suited for the blog format in comparison to I’ve done in the past. This isn’t meant to suggest that the overall tone of the blog will be radically different, but rather that I’m looking to put my best creative writing in a book and won’t consider this blog as my main outlet.

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Embrace the Madness

Posted by Steven on March 17, 2011

Today the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament begins anew. I’ve never been a ardent bracketologist due to the fact that ANYONE can fill out a bracket and do well thanks to random chance and a few lucky upsets, which which really devalues the entire experience. The tournament itself is nothing more than a crapshoot designed to draw in as many casual fans as possible, and by the time it’s over you wonder why they even bother to play a regular season at all. I’m willing to bet 75% of all sports fans, myself included, don’t even bother to watch the college game until the tournament starts. This is not to say I’m above filling in a bracket every year just for the hell of it. I mainly just want to prove to myself and others that I put more thought into it than those people who advance teams because of their nicknames, mascots, or the attractiveness of their cheerleading squad.

The NCAA decided to jump the gun a long time ago and give their tournament a nickname, March Madness, in keeping with the alliteration theme that is featured in the other tournament rounds. I think a more appropriate name for this event is Generic Nicknames Royale, as there seems to be a limited amount of creativity among college athletic directors and they end up copying the bland nicknames of other teams: bulldogs, panthers, wildcats etc. It’s nauseating.

If you are determined to fill out your bracket by going against the often cited rules of picking 12 seeds over 5s and never trusting a low ranked team beyond the Sweet Sixteen, Nostradamus just spoke to me in a vision and said he likes Morehead State over Temple in the championship game. The Eagles Will not be denied!

I actually filled out 3 brackets this year but I chose to post this one because one of my Final Four picks hasn’t been mentioned often by the experts.

My Final Four

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A look at the psyche of Bandwagon Chicago Sports Fans Part 2

Posted by Steven on May 12, 2010

The latest Chicago team guilty of generating false hope around here is the NHL’s Blackhawks. For much of this decade no one even paid attention to the Blackhawks because their games weren’t on TV and owner Bill Wertz refused to invest any of his money back into the team. Ever since Wirtz died in 2007 and his son Rock took over the team, however, the games are back TV, they’ve been winning thanks to a strong nucleus of young players, and people have taken note by flocking to the United Center in droves. Even my dad has even gotten into the Blackhawks playoff run, and until now I’d never seen him watch a hockey game in my life. I don’t think he understands all of the rules, but he’s been clapping and yelling at the TV out of joy whenever the Hawks do something right, so you can’t accuse him of trying to ruin everyone’s playoff high by not getting on the bandwagon.

The Hawks newfound popularity has proven to be a problem for the local sports radio and TV stations because they now have to tell their sports staff to act like they care about and understand hockey.

Out of all the sports media members in the city, only Tom Waddle and Marc Silverman of The Waddle and Silvy show on ESPN 1000 seem to acknowledge their bandwagon loyalty on a regular basis and wear it as a badge of honor. They’re regularly criticized for trying to talk hockey by the Squawks, a nickname given to a vocal minority of longtime Hawks fans who complain either that the Blackhawks aren’t talked about enough on Chicago sports radio or that if they are talked about, the hosts are too general and sound uniformed if they don’t use hockey terminology. The media’s general hockey ignorance extends to the Blackhawks post game host Jim Memolo, who Steve Dahl has lambasted on his podcasts. Dahl says Memolo doesn’t really react to what he just saw and instead just repeats the same facts and interview questions to different guests and callers, trying hopelessly to get through his timeslot without sounding completely clueless.

I’d like to strike a balance between hockey expert and bandwagon jumper, so I’ve tried to get a better understanding of the game by reading the rules multiple times, but it all still seems unnecessarily complex, mainly due to the ice being divided into so many subsections. Before you can watch a hockey game and truly feel like you understand everything, you have to learn about red and blue lines, various zones, substitutions, penalties, creases, and faceoff circles. This all of which sounds fine when being described in print, but when you’re watching a game trying to figure things out, the players move so fast it’s hard to see when they’re in the sanctioned off parts of the rink that are so damn important. There’s also a constant string of substitutions, making it hard to identify a player with a certain position on the ice.

Basically the game is like soccer, a sport where two teams go up and down the plying area trying to get rid of, within the rules of course, any player who prevents them from controlling the object that is used to score points. Parents like to watch their kids play soccer since it gives the kid chance to exert all that pent up energy, but more often than not all a kid gets from a career in youth soccer is a bunch of lame tophies and a higher risk of developing knee arthritis by high school.

I made a promise to myself in the fall that I wouldn’t get caught up in Blackhawks fever no matter how well they did this year and so far I’ve succeed. After obsessing over the Cubs failures in recent Octobers it’s nice to watch a Chicago team progress through the playoffs as an impartial observer who doesn’t have to worry about the team being one catastrophic mistake away from becoming another sad footnote in the history of Chicago sports.

As I write this the Hawks are playing the Vancouver Canucks on the road in game 6 of the Western Conference semifinals after losing game 5, and their first opportunity to close out the series, at home on Sunday. They’re scoreless after one period but should they end up losing this game and the series, I want it known that this series of blog posts was in no way responsible for their demise. It was simply another case of a Chicago team looking too far ahead and being unable to win series clinching games

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The Reese’s Puffs Conundrum

Posted by Steven on May 4, 2010

Last week I grabbed a fresh box of Reese’s Puffs out of the pantry, poured some of it into a bowl, and immediately noticed something was wrong. There was a disproportionate ratio of peanut butter flavored puffs to chocolate flavored puffs, with the chocolate puffs seeming to be a mere formality amid a sea of peanut butter flavored pieces. Ordinarily the cereal had a nice balance of chocolate and peanut butter and this kept you from feeling like you were eating predominantly Coco Puffs or Peanut Butter Captain Crunch, which I’m not a fan of. Now the peanut butter puffs just sat there announcing their presence like they’d just won a nasty, hard fought divorce settlement with chocolate.

“Look I know you don’t really like me Steve, but the truth is chocolate and I, while appearing to have a harmonious relationship, have been feuding for about five years now and it has become apparent that the only way this cereal can survive in its current state is if there’s less chocolate in each box. ”

I know I’ll end up eating the cereal, and will have to, since my mom bought one of those 20 oz family size boxes that is intended to appeal to grocery stores that like to buy shit in bulk so they can sell it at a cheaper price to parents on a budget with a minimum of six kids, and are therefore unable to buy each child a box of their preferred cereal. Everyone’s stuck eating a box of a cereal they hate until they’re too tired to care anymore. Instead longing for the day when they can announce to the world that they’re finally slain the once insurmountable box of Berry Burst Cheerios.

The color of the puffs themselves looked washed out, with jagged edges, and when I took my first bite the taste was subdued and not as sweet. I don’t want to describe it any further because I’m already bordering on a Steve Almond Candyfreak level of hyperbolic description, but that one bowl game me enough pause to wonder if I should ever eat another box of Reese’s Puffs. I slogged through an entire bowl of the stuff and none of the subsequent bites did anything to counter my original impression that the cereal had been fundamentally altered and would never be the same.

I went online and saw that general mills is making a conscious effort to reduce the sugar content of all their kids cereals so that’s probably why it tasted different to me but I just don’t understand why I hadn’t noticed it earlier. According to the article these changes went into effect in late 2009 and General Mills hopes that this measure will cause sales to increase, as the cereal is supposedly healthier with less sugar. I think they’re idiots for thinking that kids won’t slowly come to the realization their favorite cereal doesn’t taste the way they’ve come to expect. Once they’re aware of it kids aren’t going to react to this change positively and will just move on to campaigning for some cereal that hasn’t been exposed as a danger to humanity by David Zinczenko and the rest of his health army. No child whose parents can afford sugar loaded cereals should have to grow up eating a steady diet of Kirkland Signature Spiced Pecan.

Some of you may think I’m too old to be eating a cereal like Reese’s Puffs but I don’t care. If George Carlin could talk about how his Rice Krispies told him to fuck off every morning and people laughed with him instead of questioning his sanity, I think I’m entitled to talk about Reese’s Puffs.

I don’t have the omniscient “I’ve based my entire career on the assumption that people are too dumb to read and interpret nutritional labels correctly, and thus will automatically eat an entire piece of Chocolate Chip Paradise Pie without thinking unless I create a sufficent amount of paranoia in their minds before they lift the fork to their mouth” Zinczenko’s data around to verify this, but I think my breakfast cereal rotation of Frosted Flakes, Wheaties, Honey Nut Cheerios is healthy enough to compensate for my having a box of Reese’s Puffs every couple of weeks. However my dad still thinks that I don’t eat healthy enough and likes to make a quick inventory of all cereal in the house by shaking each box before definitively stating whether it’s okay to buy a new box.

“You’ve got *shakes* half a box of Chex cereal here, *shakes* three fourths of a box of Wheaties and an unopened box of Honey Bunches of Oats here. Why hasn’t it been opened?”
“I don’t really like it dad, why don’t you help eat some of this cereal if it’s such a big problem?”

My dad never eats cereal because he’s too busy trying to use up a cargo load of Eight O’ Clock Coffee bean packages given to him by my mom, all the while complaining that she’s not buying new blends fast enough, or that she’s always buying the wrong ones.

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Sometimes you have to make a fool of yourself for the sake of your fraternity.

Posted by Steven on April 18, 2010

Check out this video to watch my brother (he’s the guy with the white hat) do an elaborate dance routine with the rest of his fraternity. They ended up winning first place, because as we all know my brother kicks ass academically without even giving a maximum effort and every group he’s involved in is destined to come in first.

For some unknown reason they call the paths that separate the various dorms at Marietta College “malls”, hence the school’s blog title “Writing on the Mall.” If I went there I’d call them sidewalks to stress accuracy, and to piss people off.

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Let the sociological battles begin!

Posted by Steven on May 28, 2006

Sociology is the black hole field of psychology. If you happen to find yourself on a shrink’s couch you have some idea what you need to tell him: that your parents weren’t emotionally there for you when you needed them and that caused you to fall from a star three sport high school athlete (track, baseball, and bocce), to an obese forty year old drone who works in the company copy room. Your boss recommended you to this place after he caught you shoving Twinkies and other Hostess snack items down your pants—he thought you could use some help. In this little scenario, we know who has the problem, the guy, and given adequate therapy I’m sure he could be “cured” There is a problem and a solution. In sociology there are no solutions, only problems. This comes from the way sociologists view the world—they see it only its flaws and they believe humanity has the power to fix them. Unfortunately the world and society in general is so flawed that this endeavor is hopeless, no matter how many people they influence.

I guess I’m so opposed to sociology because I have a friend who babbles about sociological issues every day as we ride to school. He sometimes asks for my opinion on the issue, whether it be racism, sexism, illegal immigration, etc. I usually don’t care about the issue—I just want a ride to school without the complimentary moral dilemma, so I’ll attempt to make a joke out of the situation—at which point he’ll accuse me of stereotyping. I can’t argue with him, a lot of humor does come from stereotyping people and things, but that humor isn’t necessary reflective of the person telling the joke. The person may be just trying to get a laugh out of the ammeter sociologist because let’s face it, all sociologists are tightwads. Was I stereotyping again? Damn!

My friend’s questions have a tendency to make me feel inadequate. They leave me asking questions about my life that, before I met him seemed irrelevant but now take on profound importance—and I don’t like it. Questions like, how often to I stereotype people? Is my circle of friends racially diverse? Is it wrong that I eat my Chinese food with a fork instead of chopsticks?

The only reason he thinks about these questions so heavily is he took like six sociology classes all thaught by the same teacher, a woman who is revered and practically worshiped on campus because she is a liberal, no bullshitting around the bush gal with an affinity for the F word. However I have heard her teaching style is very objective—she encourages kids to organize rallies and walkouts around campus. In short: raise passive aggressive, constitutionally protected hell According to my friend this teacher has complained that students aren’t as proactive as when she was going to school back in the 70’s with the pot smoking, tie dye T-shirt wearing, free loving liberals of tomorrow, and she just wants to know, where have those values gone?

For her class final you have two options: write a 10 page paper or dress in drag for a day. My friend was going to dress up but he backed out at the last minute. He seemed so committed to the cause I thought he was going to become a full blown transvestite. Apparently this project is supposed to show men who dress up that women have a rougher go of in life because they have to get ready for school every day by throwing on makeup and like while having to fend off misguided horny guys who stare at them because they see them as sex objects—not because they are men dressed in drag.
My school’s other sociology teacher has a vendetta against sweatshops. His office door is plastered with propaganda, telling you which clothes are produced in sweatshops along with a sample letter telling you how to write to Mr. Old Navy that you strongly oppose his company’s use of sweatshops and Fran Drescher as a spokeswoman, because you shouldn’t take advantage of a woman’s nasally voice to sell clothes.

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The great toilet malfunction

Posted by Steven on September 17, 2004

Most people remember their first accident. No I’m not talking about the first time you wet the bed when you were two. I don’t want people to have to think about those painful memories. Of course for some people wetting the bed is not a memory, it happens every night. However I’m not talking about that kind of accident. I’m talking about your first car accident.

I can’t drive so I’ve never caused an accident. But if you ask my mom she’ll give you a completely different answer. She’ll tell you I caused her first accident. I don’t believe it. I blame her old car, a blue Chevy Malibu. That thing was cursed man. I mean the car had a paint scratch in it BEFORE WE EVEN BROUGHT IT HOME! Next it was nicked by some possessed shopping cart, then my mom hit a bicyclist on her way to work! If that doesn’t define a cursed automobile I don’t know what does. Still my mom maintains that I caused her first accident.

I don’t remember all of it vividly, just bits and pieces. So from what I can remember here’s how I think it went…

“Now Steven remember after school you have an orthodontist appointment so we have to leave right after school, no messing around alright?”
“Okay okay mom! Why do I have to go? I’m sick of it.”
“So am I. Do you think I like to listen to you complain?”
“It comes with the territory mom.”
“Whatever just have a good day at school all right?”
“Okay”

I had a bad day at school, as I did every day during 6th grade. Little did I know things were about to get worse. The bus dropped me off late, my brother was having some trouble with his homework, and I was hungry for a snack. My mom didn’t care. She hates being late for anything and we were running late for my appointment.

“We’re going to be late Steve. Could you finish your Twinkie in the car please?”
“But mom I gotta pee!”
“Why didn’t you do that earlier?!”
“I don’t know. You know I can’t rush things”
“Well go now! And hurry!”

So I ran to the bathroom and suddenly I stopped short. The toilet was overflowing! Water was gushing over the top of the toilet and soaking the carpet. I took one look at the now flooded bathroom, and I lost it. Even though I guess it wasn’t very funny at the time I just started laughing, and I mean laughing hard. When I get a kick out of something rarely does any sound come out, so my mom couldn’t hear my laughter, but she could hear the sound of rushing water.

“Steve what’s that sound coming from?”
“It’s the toilet mom! The toilet is-“ I was overcome with another fit of laughter.
“What’s wrong with the toilet? Go to the bathroom!”
“But mom the toilet is-“But I couldn’t get it out. It was all just too damn funny. I ran trough it all in my head: I had had a bad day at school, I had gotten home late, I had an orthodontist appointment which we were running late for, and now to top it all off the toilet was pulling a Niagara Falls act! I just stood there, paralyzed by laughter. Water continued to fill the room.
“Steven what’s going on? Mark go to the bathroom and find out what’s happening!”
So my brother walked into the bathroom looks in and says
“The toilets overflowing mom.”
“THE TOILETS OVERFLOWING!? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?”

She started freaking out and called my dad. I’m not sure what he told her but through some miracle of God she was able to stop the toilet’s rampage. She slammed the phone down and glared at me. “You and I are going to have a long talk in the car young man.”
Ah the classic parent line.

We got in the car and I waited for the onslaught.
“Why didn’t you tell me the toilet was overflowing? Now the carpet is practically ruined!”
“I tried but it was really funny.”
”YOU THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY! WHAT’S FUNNY ABOUT AN OVERFLOWNG TOILET?”
I laughed again, which wasn’t a good move
“Why are you laughing? It isn’t funny. You are so immature!”
“It’s just how often are you gonna see an overflowing toilet?”
I laughed again. I just couldn’t get over it. But that’s how I am. If something’s really funny, I replay it over and over in my head, laughing my ass off every time. I mean, was it wrong to laugh at an overflowing toilet?

My mom just didn’t see the humor and she continued to rant “…and now we’re going to be late and your dad’s going to kill me and…” She took her eyes off the road and that’s when the dog burst onto the scene.

KLUNK! “Oh my God I think I just hit that car! I DID hit that car!”
“Steven this is your fault! You got me so angry I couldn’t focus on driving!”
“OK but was it my fault you took your eyes off the road and the dog ran in front of us?”
“Shut up.”

“Did you kill that dog mom?” my animal loving/ pet conscious brother asked.
“No I don’t think so Mark.”
“But what if you did hit him and now he’s crippled for the rest of life?”
“I hope he’s dead.” I muttered.

I’m sure at this point my mom was wishing she’d gotten killed in the accident so she could be put out of her misery.

I’ll skip ahead in the story. The lady we hit was driving with an expired license. That meant we had to go to court for some reason.

Actually my mom did nothing more than fill out paper work during her first and only “court appearance” I got to sit in a chair looking innocent while all sorts of psychos came streaming in. I guess I should have been a little nervous around these people, but I wasn’t. I was just hoping the judge wouldn’t say something like,
“Kid we would like you to provide us with a urine sample.”
“Why do you wanna put my piss under a microscope?”
Don’t get smart. We don’t get a sample; we throw your mom in jail!”

“Would you hurry up and go to the bathroom already? You’ve been in there four hours! We need that evidence”

“I can’t go. You’re making me nervous.”

“Steven this is your mother talking. Just hurry up and go would you?”

“Ah mom. You know I can’t rush things.”

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Life isn’t a movie

Posted by Steven on September 4, 2004

I’m sure after reading my last entry you readers were screaming at there computers, “This is good but when is this guy gonna dump the fictonal characters and stop writing these weird stories? When is he going to write about HIS experiences with ‘family time’ and how he deals with it?”

Well your wait is over because I’m now going to write a true ‘family time’ story. As I said in my last entry I was forced to watch the movie Lost In Translation with my family. I hate watching movies with my family because my dad always turns it into a big event. First he has to announce to everyone that he’s going to the local video store, Midwest Video Value (I have no idea why he just don’t go to Blockbuster like a normal human being) and says he is going to pick out a movie ‘for the family.’ He then asks the three of us if we have any suggestions or if there’s a movie out we really want to see. I don’t know why he does this because most of the time my dad comes back from the video store with a movie HE wanted to see. The bottom line: If he doesn’t want to see it, the family ‘aint gonna see it.

After spending about two hours at the video store agonizing over which movie to get, he comes home and says something like: “Hey I got the movie ‘Big Fish’ I know you guys have been wanting to see that.”
“Actually no dad, I didn’t really wnat to see that one.” I usually say
“You didn’t? Then why dom’t you ever come with me and help me pick one out?”
“Because you never like what I pick out and you always end up getting the movie you want anyway”
“That’s not true, Steve.”
“Lie all you want dad.”

Then an argument insues, as illustrated by the last entry and I am labeled the ‘family outsider’ by my dad. We go at it for about an hour, then my mom breaks up the argument and says, “Can’t you two just stop arguing? Let’s watch the movie. It’s getting late.”

We always seem to start watching movies at like 9:00 at night and by the time we finish ’em it’s almost three in the morning. My dad and I finally agree to shut up and he walks into the living room, has to get his easy chair in just the right position, grabs the DVD player remote and gets a glass of wine. He gives the DVD to my brother who puts it in the player and just when you think we’re finally going to watch the movie, my dad has to tell us about any Oscars (a.k.a. naked golden guys) Academy Awards, or any other awards our movie has won. Then he rambles on about the movies premise all the way through the previews.

Then as the opening credits come on, my dad grabs the remote and jacks up the volume as high as it will go. He’s not hearing impaired, he just has to hear every damn word that is said in the movie, no matter how insignificant. “Did she say shirt of T-shirt dear?”
“I don’t remember just don’t- rewind it”.

That’s what my dad does if he misses a word in the movie. Rewinds the movie again and again. This is why it takes us forever to watch your average two hour movie. My dad loves to rewind.

The rest of our family gets pretty pissed at my dad for his constant rewinding.
“Dad quit rewinding! It doesn’t matter what the little girl said!” I yell
“Well I can’t figure it out. Excuse me.”
“THAT”S WHY YOU WATCH THE MOVIE! TO FIND OUT THE RESOLUTION TO THE PLOT!”
“Would you shut up? I couldn’t hear what she was saying! Now I have to rewind again!”

Then comes the final part of his pre-movie routine: He has to law down the law. “Now I don’t want you guys to make any smart aleck remarks or witty observations while we’re watching this.” he says. And then my favorite rule: “Laugh when appropriate.” That’s right: laugh when appropriate. We can’t just laugh whenever we think something’s funny, LOL as they say in internet lingo. We follow the LWA rule.

My dad also has to read whatever words come on the screen, because assumes he’s the only one who can read in our family. Then he further undermines our intelligence by breaking down the movie’s plot for us which is really annoying, but I think the most annoying he does is whenever a character says something funny, he has to repeat it and then explain WHY it’s funny, which ruins the joke.

“That woman hid Skittles in her bra and asked that guy ‘Would you like to taste the rainbow?’ That’s the Skittles slogan! LWA!”

I just keep checking my watch, waiting for the pain to end.

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Minor aches and pains

Posted by Steven on September 3, 2004

Have you ever sustained an embarrassing injury? Like the time you got a paperclip stuck up your nose or the time you accidentally super glued your thumbs to your Playstation controller? I’d say eveyone has had at least one embarrassing injury they never tell people about, maybe too or three of ’em. My most embarrassing injury occurred at the end of my junior year of high school. I strained a butt muscle. (This concludes the introduction paragraph of this essay.)

Now you’re probably asking yourself “How the heck do you strain a butt muscle? Wait a second I don’t want to know how.” It wasn’t like a sat down on the toilet one day and was so constipated I was trying to push the Titanic out of my ass. (However if you want to experience that feeling don’t eat any fiber for about a month.) I strained a butt muscle because my physical therapist made a small “mistake”

One day she came into the gym saying that my hamstrings needed to be stretched like they had never been stretched before. She claimed she had the device to do this: a cushion type thing that had rainbow colored straps attached to it. It looked like a gay pride utility belt. She ordered me to sit down on a bench with my feet out in front of me. She took the strap and tightened it around my feet, yanking them backward. The cushion part of this torture device was RIGHT ABOVE MY BUTT! She kept asking me if her wonder device was doing its magic, stretching my hamstrings. I wanted to tell her “Nope, I don’t feel a miracle yet.” but I didn’t say anything.

I have a very high pain tolerance so I probably couldn’t feel if it was stretching my hamstrings anyway but she still kept asking if they were being stretched to the limit. I said no and she yanked on the rainbow strap, making it a little more uncomfortable. After I didn’t start crying in agony, she set me free, disgusted.

“So you don’t know if that stretch helped your hamstrings?” she asked. I really couldn’t tell and I didn’t give a crap. After I left gym I felt a twinge in my lower back. It hurt a little, but nothing major. The pain continued until I got home from school. I decided I would crash on the couch and rest a little before moving on to my homework. My “back” had other ideas. I started to have violent muscle spasms and the pain was pretty hard to take. Soon I could hardly move without pain. I felt like I had aged 60 years in a span of four hours. I made it back to my room with help from my alarmed parents who asked if I needed Medicare.

I tried everything to get rid of the “pain in the ass” A heating pad, Bengay, Advil, Tylenol etc. You name it I tried it. Nothing seemed to work. I missed about a week of school because of this incident and I could hardly walk anywhere without excruciating pain. I’m not kidding, if you strain a butt muscle you’re gonna be out of commission for awhile. I finally went to the doctor and told him the whole story. After a close examination he says “Steven, it’s not your back that’s bothering you. You have a strained butt muscle.” So he prescribed Valium for me and I was out of it for a few days. People laughed at me and said stuff like, “You strained a butt muscle? That must feel so embarrASSing!”

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What the hell is up with TV?

Posted by Steven on September 1, 2004

Over the summer I watched a lot of boring mindless TV. I don’t know why but that’s what always seems to happen during the summer. You say to yourself “ya know what? I wasted last summer. I didn’t appreciate it, didn’t live it to the fullest. But not this summer! This summer I’m going to go swimming, go on nature hikes, read for hours under the shade of a tree, and climb a mountain, all before breakfast no less. But you never stick to your plan and before you know it you’re sleeping in until noon, eating just to fight boredom and watching old TV shows like Murder She Wrote, The Golden Girls, and Happy Days. You don’t want to watch these shows, you just happen to flip to ’em by accident and then the next time you look at the clock it’s 5 pm and you say to yourself what the heck have I been doing for the last five hours!

As I said I’ve been guilty of watching some pretty stupid shows. In fact one morning this summer I found myself engrossed in an episode of Dawson’s Creek. (Yes you read that right. In fact I even went on a seven day pilgrimage to find Dawson’s Creek, but James Van Der Beek said the creek dried up after the series finale episode.) Anyway that show I Love the 90’s did a good job of pointing out DC’s flaws, so I wont go into much detail about this show, only to say that the dialogue is really stupid

Here’s an example: In the episode I was watching, Joey was telling Dawson, “I just can’t sleep over anymore Dawson. It’s not the same.”
“But why not Joey?”
“Because I have breasts, and you have genetalia.”

Do I need to say anymore? Thank god that show is off the air. But the WB keeps pulling sexy shows out of the oven. Case in point: Smallville. Have you seen the ad for the new season of this show? It starts off with some chic in the shower, then they cut to some madman hanging outside somebody’s door, looking deranged, followed lastly by Clark having sex with some woman, probably Lois Lane. I guess the motto at the WB is: “If it makes our bosses horny, it’s fit to be on TV!” and “all shows must have at least one sex scene per episode by season four.”

You add in the corny dialogue and you get something like this: “Lois I’m really starting to have strong feelings about you and I would like to begin a relationship with you.”
“You’re not getting anywhere near me Clark.”
“Why do you keep pushing me away Lois. I really want to make an effort with this relationship.”
“You’re not going to want to get close to me Clark. Trust me.”
“But why Lois?”

“Because I have kryptonite in my pants. And I’ve been sleeping with Lex Luthor. Ha ha ha!”

Great TV huh?

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