Pop Quiz: What Day Is Today?
A.) Mardi Gras
B.) Fat Tuesday
C.) James Van Der Beek's Birthday
D.) All of the Above
Correct Answer: E. Paczki Day.
Now, if you live in the Metro Detroit Area. Nix that, if you live in Michigan the only place to get your Paczki fix is in Hamtramck. Where there are a slew, a smorgasbord, a cornucopia, a plethora of good old fashioned Polish bakeries.
And those aforementioned bakeries become jammed packed on Paczki Day. Lines and crowds of people go up, down, and around Jos Campus. News stations come to report on it, and passer-bys stare in amazement.
You can never really know what Paczki Day is like until you go to Hamtramck and experience it for yourself, and finally this year (thanks to my brother) I did.
We arrived around 11:30 in the morning. Because my brother thought we would not have to wait, yeah and LeBron thought he would not have to wait for a title in South Beach.
Needless to say, we took our talents to Hamtramck and we waited. Outside. For about an hour and some change. In the cold. The upside? The Polka music of course.
There is a bar kiddy corner to New Palace Bakery called the the Whiskey Jar. They had their own little Paczki Day tent set up and they had the Polka a blaring. This helped pass the hour that we did not have to wait of course. I do have to say however, they blended the Chicken Dance with Blister In the Sun by the Violent Femmes. I was impressed. And wanted an accordion.
There was a Local 4 News Van parked outside the bakery. I forget the name of the news reporter they had, but she had a bit of a 'tude. She was all offended that people were hitting on her and the such. Now, if you are in Hamtramck and are shocked and or offended that middle aged Polish men and 80+ year old Polish women are creeping on you. You just have never been to Hamtramck. Then she committed a cardinal sin.
She pulled a cutsy in line.
Oh no, not up in here. She completely blew passed the hundreds of people in line and grabbed some Paczkis and pretty much laughed about it. The thunder was about to be brought, but I cooled my jets because we were about to enter the Bakery after waiting for an hour (and losing after losing sensation in my legs/feet)(twice) and pick up our Paczki and leave.
Wrongamundo. There were lines, and then those lines mated. And birthed three other lines. That eventually just turn into 80 people crammed into an area the size of Shaq's wing-span. Yet, everyone was able to join in unison when it got too cold. So like a Paczki crazed chorus they shouted, "Close the door!"
While apart of the amoebic line, we waited for another hour and a half. My brother was in one line, and I was in another. Performing the patented, "Hey, get in that line and whoever gets their first orders the stuff." That works fine and well until the other person (my brother) is completely convinced that his line will be the first to be able to get Paczkis. Now the other person (me) was prepared to go down with the Titanic that was my line, and I was not afraid to jump ship.
But peer pressure is the best pressure, and I went into to his line. Sure as Sandusky, the artist formerly known as my line jettisoned. Whoa, did not see that one coming. Look, if you are in a line, stick with it. As soon as you leave that line it will go through quick than Dom Deluise in a buffet line.
Nevertheless, I got my Paczki. And after eating two of them I know have gained thirty two metric tons and have enough carbs in me to run the Boston Marathon then run to the New York Marathon the run from the New York Marathon to El Salvador. The logistics seem a tad exaggerated sure, but I mean it.
Or you could avoid the timely and frigid wait. Hell, you could of avoided all of this if you pre-ordered your Paczki.
But then you would be a cheater.
Happy Paczki Day Everyone! And as my grandpa would say in a time like this...
"Sto lat!"
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
El Shore-o Bore-o
It is Spring Break people!!!!!!
Many a college student are in Florida, Cali, and Mexico. I on the other hand am I vacationing in my hometown of Saint Clair Shores, Michigan.
Saint Clair Shores is known for a few things. Like being right off Lake Saint Clair, The Nautical Mile, The hometown of Dave Coulier, and Fred "Sonic" Smith, and being boring as the dickens.
When I was having a discussion with my friends Brady and Lauren the other day we were trying to figure out what we could do. We figured out we had 5 choices:
1.) Bowling
2.) Travis
3.) Bowling
4.) Bowling
5.) Be cold (seasonal option)
That is just unacceptable.
The Shores needs more options. And he are my spitball ideas of to what the city could do to make this city un-boring.
Amusement Park
You laugh now. But folks, S.C.S. had one before. It was built in 1927 and was burnt down in 1955. Saint Clair Shores should put all their eggs in one basket on this one. This could be huge. You could have a full on boardwalk a la Rocket Power and or a poor man's poor Coney Island. But it will be tough to build obviously, and it raises the question, "How was it burnt down in the first place?" Which leads to my second suggestion...
Bring Back the Mafia(s)/Prohibition
Okay, this one could be a smidge unrealistic but one can dream. Let's just face facts for a second, Mafia(s) make things more interesting. And prohibition was just cool. I mean look at how it treated Jay Gatsby (minus the getting shot) (SPOILER ALERT) Wait, that was supposed to come before I tell you he gets shot. Anyway, there is a typical mathematical equation that comes with Mafia(s) inhabiting a city:
Mafia(s)+City="Job Opportunities"
Therefore...
Mafia(s)=Money
Henceforth...
Mafia(s)+Money+Influence=Dirty Cops
Meaning...
Dirty Cops=City Officials
So....
City Officals+Mafia(s)+Kickbacks=Amusement Park.
Boom!
Busch League Minor League Sports Team of Sorts
We have Kyte Monroe and Civic Arena. We have the intangibles to support an incredibly small Minor League team. For example, that one team Freddie Prinze Jr. was on in Summer Catch. It would be fun seasonal entertainment for a city who likes their sports. It would be a hit and a half.
Concert Venue
This would be amazing. The potential of this is mind blowing. Now, I am not saying, "Let's make a concert hall like the State Theatre!" No, I am saying make like a CBGB's. Just a small intimate place where bands would want to play. And the more places that bands are able to play the more bands will play, and more people will want to form bands and then Saint Clair Shores could have a nice little music scene.
Re-Opening The Shores Theatre
This is the easiest thing to do. And it should have been done years ago. I digress.
Build a Sonic
Oh my god. Have you been to Sonic? If you build it, they will come. People will come Ray, handing over twenty dollars without even thinking, people will come Ray, people will come. If you can parlay a quote from Field of Dreams it is a sure-fire must happen idea. Putting a Sonic on Jefferson or Harper, that would be money. Since Sonics are a delicacy in Michigan people from outside cities will come to get their tater-tot fix.
And when they get arrive in the Shores they would say, "Wow there is so much to do! We could go to Civic and see the Saint Clair Shores Wave play, go to Jefferson Beach Amusement Park, See a movie at Shores Theatre, or see what bands are playing at the Boardwalk Bar."
or, OR, they could come to Saint Clair Shores and more realistically say, "Alright! Let's bowl!"
Which one seems more fun to you?
Many a college student are in Florida, Cali, and Mexico. I on the other hand am I vacationing in my hometown of Saint Clair Shores, Michigan.
Saint Clair Shores is known for a few things. Like being right off Lake Saint Clair, The Nautical Mile, The hometown of Dave Coulier, and Fred "Sonic" Smith, and being boring as the dickens.
When I was having a discussion with my friends Brady and Lauren the other day we were trying to figure out what we could do. We figured out we had 5 choices:
1.) Bowling
2.) Travis
3.) Bowling
4.) Bowling
5.) Be cold (seasonal option)
That is just unacceptable.
The Shores needs more options. And he are my spitball ideas of to what the city could do to make this city un-boring.
Amusement Park
You laugh now. But folks, S.C.S. had one before. It was built in 1927 and was burnt down in 1955. Saint Clair Shores should put all their eggs in one basket on this one. This could be huge. You could have a full on boardwalk a la Rocket Power and or a poor man's poor Coney Island. But it will be tough to build obviously, and it raises the question, "How was it burnt down in the first place?" Which leads to my second suggestion...
Bring Back the Mafia(s)/Prohibition
Okay, this one could be a smidge unrealistic but one can dream. Let's just face facts for a second, Mafia(s) make things more interesting. And prohibition was just cool. I mean look at how it treated Jay Gatsby (minus the getting shot) (SPOILER ALERT) Wait, that was supposed to come before I tell you he gets shot. Anyway, there is a typical mathematical equation that comes with Mafia(s) inhabiting a city:
Mafia(s)+City="Job Opportunities"
Therefore...
Mafia(s)=Money
Henceforth...
Mafia(s)+Money+Influence=Dirty Cops
Meaning...
Dirty Cops=City Officials
So....
City Officals+Mafia(s)+Kickbacks=Amusement Park.
Boom!
Busch League Minor League Sports Team of Sorts
We have Kyte Monroe and Civic Arena. We have the intangibles to support an incredibly small Minor League team. For example, that one team Freddie Prinze Jr. was on in Summer Catch. It would be fun seasonal entertainment for a city who likes their sports. It would be a hit and a half.
Concert Venue
This would be amazing. The potential of this is mind blowing. Now, I am not saying, "Let's make a concert hall like the State Theatre!" No, I am saying make like a CBGB's. Just a small intimate place where bands would want to play. And the more places that bands are able to play the more bands will play, and more people will want to form bands and then Saint Clair Shores could have a nice little music scene.
Re-Opening The Shores Theatre
This is the easiest thing to do. And it should have been done years ago. I digress.
Build a Sonic
Oh my god. Have you been to Sonic? If you build it, they will come. People will come Ray, handing over twenty dollars without even thinking, people will come Ray, people will come. If you can parlay a quote from Field of Dreams it is a sure-fire must happen idea. Putting a Sonic on Jefferson or Harper, that would be money. Since Sonics are a delicacy in Michigan people from outside cities will come to get their tater-tot fix.
And when they get arrive in the Shores they would say, "Wow there is so much to do! We could go to Civic and see the Saint Clair Shores Wave play, go to Jefferson Beach Amusement Park, See a movie at Shores Theatre, or see what bands are playing at the Boardwalk Bar."
or, OR, they could come to Saint Clair Shores and more realistically say, "Alright! Let's bowl!"
Which one seems more fun to you?
Friday, March 4, 2011
What Is Philosophy?
College gets ya thinking folks. Not like the good thinking though. More like the alright I have three dollars I could buy a two-liter and a bag of chips OR I could buy an Arizona Iced-Tea and two bags of chips. And you find yourself just staring at all of the pop at the convenience store like Matt Damon looked at a math problem in Goodwill Hunting.
Combine that with a Philosophy class.
At 8:30. In the morning.
And together you get the operational mind of an 87-year old senile man who thinks he was in the "Big War" but never really was. Yet, he always tells people he was. Who yells at kids to get off his lawn, while simultaneously watching his programs.
Not a good combination to say the least, but that is the hand I was dealt this semester. And I have to play it. At least my room mate, Will is in the class as well.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays we awake at the early-bird hour of 7 in the morning. And we normally actually get out of bed at 7:45ish. That is, if we even slept. Sleep if more of an option that it is a necessity. You may say, "Well that is unhealthy!" Well, yeah.
We go to the cafeteria and have caffeine for breakfast.
(Side note: Never drink black coffee, the green tea, the Mountatin Dew. The left half of your body goes numb, and you right hand becomes possessed by Satan.)
Now, my Philosophy professor is a nice guy. He tries to engage the class he poses great questions.
Nobody in my class answers them though.
Except for five people. My friend David (who sits in front of Will and I) This girl behind us whos name I should know by now, but I don't because she contradicts herself and often talks about Jesus too much. This guy who ironically is like Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting because he thinks he is the cat pajamas, the proverbial bees-knees. The ever formidable "I know big words, man and I am not afraid to use them in random sentences to make you think that I think I know what I am talking about, so hah... antidisestablishmentarianism." "hipster" Who sits in the back sips on his Starbucks and waits for someone to get it an intellectual tift with. And then there is Will and I.
Here is a typical class disscussion:
Professor: So class you had to read, What is it like to be a bat. So, the author asks a really good question... what is it like to be a bat?
(Jesus girl raises hand)
Jesus girl: Well, I certaintly would not want to be a bat.
(Matt Damon via Good Will Hunting makes his snarky remark will hipsterly still sipping on his Starbucks)
Cats-PJ's guy: You know I think this is talking about the self pontithicating nature of substandard society dwellers.
(Me sitting at the desk taking a deep breath and containing the anger of Mike Tyson on a Wednesday)
Will: Well, no this is clearly not about that... It is probably about something bigger.
Professor: I like that thought.
(I raise my hand)
Me: Now, I think this is about bats.
(Jesus Girl raises her hand to contradict herself)
Jesus Warrior: You know, I would like to be a bat.
(Class looks at eachother wondering how someone could be so dumb)
Ribble rabble ensues for another 30 minutes.
Class ends with the professor saying.
"Well, I guess we do not know what it is to be__________. Or Well, we don't really know what _____ is."
Making the last hour of my life a waste.
It is this kind of stuff that now makes me angry when the sun is too bright or some one interrupts my nap. My mind has gone from a promising brain that could have been a sponge soaking up knowledge. But, now it is just a thing underneath my skull filled with the anger of an old man who just found out Good Times was cancelled thirty years ago.
Which makes me pose this philosophical question, What is anger?
Well, I guess we don't know what anger really is.
And you can trust me on that.
Because I take philosophy.
Combine that with a Philosophy class.
At 8:30. In the morning.
And together you get the operational mind of an 87-year old senile man who thinks he was in the "Big War" but never really was. Yet, he always tells people he was. Who yells at kids to get off his lawn, while simultaneously watching his programs.
Not a good combination to say the least, but that is the hand I was dealt this semester. And I have to play it. At least my room mate, Will is in the class as well.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays we awake at the early-bird hour of 7 in the morning. And we normally actually get out of bed at 7:45ish. That is, if we even slept. Sleep if more of an option that it is a necessity. You may say, "Well that is unhealthy!" Well, yeah.
We go to the cafeteria and have caffeine for breakfast.
(Side note: Never drink black coffee, the green tea, the Mountatin Dew. The left half of your body goes numb, and you right hand becomes possessed by Satan.)
Now, my Philosophy professor is a nice guy. He tries to engage the class he poses great questions.
Nobody in my class answers them though.
Except for five people. My friend David (who sits in front of Will and I) This girl behind us whos name I should know by now, but I don't because she contradicts herself and often talks about Jesus too much. This guy who ironically is like Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting because he thinks he is the cat pajamas, the proverbial bees-knees. The ever formidable "I know big words, man and I am not afraid to use them in random sentences to make you think that I think I know what I am talking about, so hah... antidisestablishmentarianism." "hipster" Who sits in the back sips on his Starbucks and waits for someone to get it an intellectual tift with. And then there is Will and I.
Here is a typical class disscussion:
Professor: So class you had to read, What is it like to be a bat. So, the author asks a really good question... what is it like to be a bat?
(Jesus girl raises hand)
Jesus girl: Well, I certaintly would not want to be a bat.
(Matt Damon via Good Will Hunting makes his snarky remark will hipsterly still sipping on his Starbucks)
Cats-PJ's guy: You know I think this is talking about the self pontithicating nature of substandard society dwellers.
(Me sitting at the desk taking a deep breath and containing the anger of Mike Tyson on a Wednesday)
Will: Well, no this is clearly not about that... It is probably about something bigger.
Professor: I like that thought.
(I raise my hand)
Me: Now, I think this is about bats.
(Jesus Girl raises her hand to contradict herself)
Jesus Warrior: You know, I would like to be a bat.
(Class looks at eachother wondering how someone could be so dumb)
Ribble rabble ensues for another 30 minutes.
Class ends with the professor saying.
"Well, I guess we do not know what it is to be__________. Or Well, we don't really know what _____ is."
Making the last hour of my life a waste.
It is this kind of stuff that now makes me angry when the sun is too bright or some one interrupts my nap. My mind has gone from a promising brain that could have been a sponge soaking up knowledge. But, now it is just a thing underneath my skull filled with the anger of an old man who just found out Good Times was cancelled thirty years ago.
Which makes me pose this philosophical question, What is anger?
Well, I guess we don't know what anger really is.
And you can trust me on that.
Because I take philosophy.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
This Just Happened... Last Month
(This was meant to be posted a month ago and or last Monday)
Michael, Will, and I left at 3:13 am to go to Denny's. Apparently we forgot that it was a reverse New Orleans outside (too soon?) We sly-fully navigated through Curtis Hall to get to the J-2 parking lot, we did so to squeeze every last bit of warmth we could before being greeted by snow, cold, some more cold, and some more snow... Did I mention it was cold and there was snow? Because there was.
As we were walking through J-2 like modern Eskimos we were commenting on how much it sucked for the cars that were boxed in by snow. Karma.
Now, we figured Mike has a truck. Mike has four-wheel drive. Mike can get out. And indeed Mike did still have a truck that still had four-wheel drive. But he could not get out. Trapped like a prisoner in Alcatraz. We did however come equipped with a the most powerful weapon to have when combating snow... A broom. But now just any broom, a yellow one.
To say that operation "Broom of Doom" was a failure is kind of steep, but to say it was a successful venture is even steeper. It did how ever make a smashing snow javalon and ice pencil that helped assist me in writing "Please plow the snow, Thank you."
While I was making snow art, Mike was still trying to back out. His truck was making noises that whales only make during mating season, and he was emitting enough fumes to make Al Gore cry. I began instructing him to, "Turn the wheel... no not that way... The other way... No now you are just going backwards." I felt like a father teaching his son how to drive. All the while I would look back at Will, and he would encouragely say, "Yeah, we're gonna die."
It took us about 45 minutes and 56 failed attempts at backing out for our college minds to merge into one. At that moment we all thought of the one singular thing that could get us out of this tift. A shovel. And who has shovels? 7-11. And where is 7-11? Bout a mile away. How are we going to get there? Well, obviously by foot. Because karma is a female dog.
As we aimlessly walked across campus we saw other people walked through the snow in below freezing temperatures. And all I could to do was think to myself, "What kind of idiots would be walking outside at 3 am?" Irony is a female dog as well.
So there we were on Pierce road, making our way to 7-11. It felt like we were walking in place. The stop-light at the end of the road went from an ending point into a heckler taunting us saying, "You can't get me." Finally we got there.
No shovels.
But there was plenty of warmth... and hot cocoa. So I mean f shovels right. Not dying of hypothermia is much more important.
Now this is the point in the story where if this was a play I would do a side bar to consulte the audience.
So sidebar...
Karma is a bitch.
Alright back to the story. But, still rolling with the karma being a bitch idea. We apparently did not take into consideration that in order to get back we had to walk. The same exact way we got there.
As we were walking in near absolute zero temperatures. (Okay that was an exaggeration) My beard froze. Again, what is with all this vindictive karma?
On our walk though I did have to make the smart ass comment of. "Man this woul have been a lot easier if you drove Mike."
And he got pissed at that comment while he was eating a Turkey and Cheese sandwich from 7-11 that froze in 6 minutes. (Estimate) That was divine intervention my friend.
Then we made it back to the dorm safe and sound and at 5:30 a.m.
That is how you spend a snow day.
Michael, Will, and I left at 3:13 am to go to Denny's. Apparently we forgot that it was a reverse New Orleans outside (too soon?) We sly-fully navigated through Curtis Hall to get to the J-2 parking lot, we did so to squeeze every last bit of warmth we could before being greeted by snow, cold, some more cold, and some more snow... Did I mention it was cold and there was snow? Because there was.
As we were walking through J-2 like modern Eskimos we were commenting on how much it sucked for the cars that were boxed in by snow. Karma.
Now, we figured Mike has a truck. Mike has four-wheel drive. Mike can get out. And indeed Mike did still have a truck that still had four-wheel drive. But he could not get out. Trapped like a prisoner in Alcatraz. We did however come equipped with a the most powerful weapon to have when combating snow... A broom. But now just any broom, a yellow one.
To say that operation "Broom of Doom" was a failure is kind of steep, but to say it was a successful venture is even steeper. It did how ever make a smashing snow javalon and ice pencil that helped assist me in writing "Please plow the snow, Thank you."
While I was making snow art, Mike was still trying to back out. His truck was making noises that whales only make during mating season, and he was emitting enough fumes to make Al Gore cry. I began instructing him to, "Turn the wheel... no not that way... The other way... No now you are just going backwards." I felt like a father teaching his son how to drive. All the while I would look back at Will, and he would encouragely say, "Yeah, we're gonna die."
It took us about 45 minutes and 56 failed attempts at backing out for our college minds to merge into one. At that moment we all thought of the one singular thing that could get us out of this tift. A shovel. And who has shovels? 7-11. And where is 7-11? Bout a mile away. How are we going to get there? Well, obviously by foot. Because karma is a female dog.
As we aimlessly walked across campus we saw other people walked through the snow in below freezing temperatures. And all I could to do was think to myself, "What kind of idiots would be walking outside at 3 am?" Irony is a female dog as well.
So there we were on Pierce road, making our way to 7-11. It felt like we were walking in place. The stop-light at the end of the road went from an ending point into a heckler taunting us saying, "You can't get me." Finally we got there.
No shovels.
But there was plenty of warmth... and hot cocoa. So I mean f shovels right. Not dying of hypothermia is much more important.
Now this is the point in the story where if this was a play I would do a side bar to consulte the audience.
So sidebar...
Karma is a bitch.
Alright back to the story. But, still rolling with the karma being a bitch idea. We apparently did not take into consideration that in order to get back we had to walk. The same exact way we got there.
As we were walking in near absolute zero temperatures. (Okay that was an exaggeration) My beard froze. Again, what is with all this vindictive karma?
On our walk though I did have to make the smart ass comment of. "Man this woul have been a lot easier if you drove Mike."
And he got pissed at that comment while he was eating a Turkey and Cheese sandwich from 7-11 that froze in 6 minutes. (Estimate) That was divine intervention my friend.
Then we made it back to the dorm safe and sound and at 5:30 a.m.
That is how you spend a snow day.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Our Detroit
(For all of you expecting my usual satire today I am sorry)
This is kind of a compound of my posts from my Facebook over the discussion of Glenn Beck and his take on Detroit:
"Go to Chicago, Los Angeles, New York, Hong Kong, Tokyo go to any major city in the WORLD and you see these things. You will see crime, you will see joblessness, homelessness, you will see despair. The only reason why Detroit is in the forefront of all this is because it is the scape goat. It is easier to kick a person when they are down then when they are standing up ready to fight back."
"The easiest thing to do is focus on the ruin porn in Detroit. Being a cynic is one of the easiest things to be in the world. Because you do not even have to have educated thoughts. But to actually apply thought, to do research to actually read into something instead of skimming it, that is what makes an educated person.
All the people who knock Detroit, they only skim through the story. They choose to base their opinions on a picture in a newspaper from Los Angeles.
The people who read the story are the one's who believe in Detroit, who know Detroit is capable of recovering and WILL recover.
Because look at history DO RESEARCH.
Cities fall, cities rebuild. Ashes are full of nutrients and things grown off of ashes go stronger than ever.
Case and point, Hiroshima.
Glenn Beck doesn't realize how blindly ironic he is being."
That is what I posted.
Now, to further establish my take on Detroit.
I love Detroit. Is there burnt down buildings? Yes. Is there corruption? Yes. Is there crime? Yes. Is it what it once was? No. Can it ever be again? Yes.
I am extremely passionate about a handful of things. Detroit is one of them.
I do not need a car commercial or a local rapper to make me feel good about the city. I always have felt good about it and I always will.
People say, "Oh Detroit is the underdog and everyone loves the underdog."
Oh yeah? Well, if everyone loves the underdog, then home come no one helps?
People complain about how they would never be go to Detroit. Well where do you think you go to see the Tigers, Red Wings, and Lions... Okay the Lions were a bad example. But, what about the FOX, Greektown and all of the other casinos in the city.
And I also get the same reply, "Well, that really isn't Detroit."
Wrong.
That is Detroit.
Detroit will rise. Mark my word.
I believe that as much as anything I have ever known.
Let me repeat that, Detroit will rise.
And it will be stronger than ever.
For all of you who want this to be "the little underdog story"
As it was said so perfectly by one of Detroit's greatest groups, The Temptations...
Get Ready.
Because this our city, critics and cynics can write and judge from thousands of miles away, but they do not know the true Detroit.
And they will never know the true Detroit.
They will never know Our Detroit.
My Failed (Witty) Blog Titles
If you may be thinking you want to create a blog, you really only need one important thing.
An incredibly eye-catching and witty title.
If you are not the kind of person who can think of something with such amazing whit that captivates the masses, you can take some of my brain-stormed/unused/failed Blog titles.
These are divided into three catagories:
-Dumb
-Dumber
-Tyler Perry References
Dumb
-Blogger
See, I thought I could parody the great arcade game Frogger and name my blog Blogger. To my surprise there was already established site (this one) with this domain name. Fail.
-The Blog
Let's just call a spade a spade on this one. It is a tad ostentatious.
-The Lion, The Witch, and the Blog-drobe
You do not even know how close this was to being the title.
Dumber
-Hop On Blog/Oh The Places You'll Blog
Obvious gray area here, what with the potential copyright infringement. I have limited cash flow, henceforth shan't be sued.
-Blogbook
Suck on it Zuckerberg.
-The Good, The Bad, and the Blog
This would have worked. Quite well actually, if only "the Blog" in this context did not sound like a venereal disease.
-The Cat In the Blog
Again with the copyright infringement. And also, if you notice there is an overwhelming lack of cat theme in this blog.
Tyler Perry References
-Blog (Based on a Novel by Sapphire)
Okay, this is funny. You are going to laugh. I do not even know if Tyler Perry did this, but it works.
-I Can Do Blog All By Myself
Alright, this one I kind of chuckled at when it popped into my head.
-Medea Goes To Blog
I must stop. But, it is so much fun. Like honestly, think of any movie/movie series and you automatically have at least 246 Blog titles.
I hope this was helpful and feel free to take any of these, just let me know. Or, I will have to go Lethal Blog 4 on you.
I take that back, 247 Blog titles.
Procrastination=Irony... Sweet, Sweet Irony (Part I)
It should come as no surprise to anyone but, I am in college. And with college comes a few extra pounds, some new experiences, a broadening of horizons and views, and lots and lots of procrastination.
And much like graffiti taggers have turned graffiti into an art form, I have turned procrastination into an art form. Same with my room mate Will. We laugh at deadlines and subsequently cry when Thursday seemingly becomes next Tuesday.
You could say it is a problem but, you are not going to have any luck convincing me of such. I did however have an intervention/epiphany last week in Psychology. And this faux interpiphany (triple word score) came from the lesson plan entitled... you guessed it. Learning.
Now, you know in Middle School when the teacher was giving a lecture on good behavior and it seemed like the teacher made direct eye contact with you the whole time. Yeah, this was that kind of moment. My inner guilt was indescribable at that moment. I literally felt like I was suppose to stand up and say, "I am Aaron and I am a procrastinator."
You would think that a person would have a new perspective after that.
YOU WOULD THINK A PERSON WOULD HAVE A NEW PERSPECTIVE AFTER THAT.
But sure as Sandusky, that night/morning Will and I were diligently and frantically working on one 1200 word essay, around 240 short answer questions, and 5 400 word writercises.
Again we laugh at deadlines.... and cry too. And boy were we crying.
The most frequently said phrase during all of this, "Let this be rock-bottom." And we agreed it would be.
This work still had to get done though. And I really can not put into works what doing all of this work felt like. It was somewhere between Harry Potter when they wake up the three headed dog Fluffy and Young Frankenstein when Dr. Frankenstein locks himself in the room with the monster and tells Igor not to let him out not matter what he said.
For further enhancement and through youtube here is visual representation of that:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBCO_WpW5oQ
and
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pu1DMSqTLyk
Actually, it was really all Young Frankenstein. As around 3:45 in the morning I was looking at my assignments saying, "Hello handsome!" Hoping that it would show mercy on me, and that the questions would miraculously
change from important plot motifs in Greek tragedies to "Hey what is your favorite color Aaron?"
At about 3:45 and 45 seconds I realized that was not happening at all. Damn.
To make a long story shorter, I finished the work. In your face Medea. You may have killed your kids but you did not kill my esteem. I take that back, you wounded my esteem. What killed it was Philosophy.
Me at 5:30 in the morn or so, "Oh yeah, that reflection thingy."
So, I read the passage we had to read revolving around just and unjust actions. I swear to Allah irony is my middle name.
I breeze through the page and a half passage give my one page reflection. And a very good one mind you. And finally I say to myself, "Finally sleep."
Then my alarm went off. It was 7:30 in the morning.
BUT all of my work was done. So even though I was shaking more than well, a cold person, I defeated Fluffy.
College Student=1
Procrastination=0
Part II tomorrow... If I get to it.
And much like graffiti taggers have turned graffiti into an art form, I have turned procrastination into an art form. Same with my room mate Will. We laugh at deadlines and subsequently cry when Thursday seemingly becomes next Tuesday.
You could say it is a problem but, you are not going to have any luck convincing me of such. I did however have an intervention/epiphany last week in Psychology. And this faux interpiphany (triple word score) came from the lesson plan entitled... you guessed it. Learning.
Now, you know in Middle School when the teacher was giving a lecture on good behavior and it seemed like the teacher made direct eye contact with you the whole time. Yeah, this was that kind of moment. My inner guilt was indescribable at that moment. I literally felt like I was suppose to stand up and say, "I am Aaron and I am a procrastinator."
You would think that a person would have a new perspective after that.
YOU WOULD THINK A PERSON WOULD HAVE A NEW PERSPECTIVE AFTER THAT.
But sure as Sandusky, that night/morning Will and I were diligently and frantically working on one 1200 word essay, around 240 short answer questions, and 5 400 word writercises.
Again we laugh at deadlines.... and cry too. And boy were we crying.
The most frequently said phrase during all of this, "Let this be rock-bottom." And we agreed it would be.
This work still had to get done though. And I really can not put into works what doing all of this work felt like. It was somewhere between Harry Potter when they wake up the three headed dog Fluffy and Young Frankenstein when Dr. Frankenstein locks himself in the room with the monster and tells Igor not to let him out not matter what he said.
For further enhancement and through youtube here is visual representation of that:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBCO_WpW5oQ
and
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pu1DMSqTLyk
Actually, it was really all Young Frankenstein. As around 3:45 in the morning I was looking at my assignments saying, "Hello handsome!" Hoping that it would show mercy on me, and that the questions would miraculously
change from important plot motifs in Greek tragedies to "Hey what is your favorite color Aaron?"
At about 3:45 and 45 seconds I realized that was not happening at all. Damn.
To make a long story shorter, I finished the work. In your face Medea. You may have killed your kids but you did not kill my esteem. I take that back, you wounded my esteem. What killed it was Philosophy.
Me at 5:30 in the morn or so, "Oh yeah, that reflection thingy."
So, I read the passage we had to read revolving around just and unjust actions. I swear to Allah irony is my middle name.
I breeze through the page and a half passage give my one page reflection. And a very good one mind you. And finally I say to myself, "Finally sleep."
Then my alarm went off. It was 7:30 in the morning.
BUT all of my work was done. So even though I was shaking more than well, a cold person, I defeated Fluffy.
College Student=1
Procrastination=0
Part II tomorrow... If I get to it.
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