It's Music Video Friday...

By thePatrick

Prepare Yourself For The End Of Times...

By thePatrick

Now, before you run off to your hidden bunker with a year's worth of dry packed potato pearls and 300 refilled two liter bottles of water, let me explain. I am afraid for mankind. I don't know exactly what is going to happen, but time is running out. We need to get our top scientists on this pronto.

And this doesn't even begin to cover what we should do once the Zombie Apocalypse comes to pass.

It's simple really. We have run out of disease names. Allow me to explain. Everyone knows that the most recent "horror" is Swine Flu. For someone that echos my thoughts, read here. It was posted May 5, but still. So, Norte and I were talking with some other coworkers, and decided that the next big disease to come, following Swine and Bird Flu, had to be something creepy.

Monkey Pox.

But, small problem. Monkey Pox already exists. Really. I was shocked too. Apparently it's passed on by prairie dogs, or something. Then, upon Norte's return from the Bahamas, we thought that we'd hit the motherload of all creepy, scary, run for the hills diseases. A combination.

Swine Pox.

Alas, Swine Pox is a real disease, too. So, I propose we do what must be done. Yes, it's radical, but it's something that must be done to protect those who are forced to name diseases. Stop giving vaccines. Then, all the diseases that don't exist anymore can come back with a vengeance. Welcome back, Polio! Hola, Smallpox. We missed you all.

I Guess I'm Crazy...

By thePatrick

But I am doing it to myself. So, now I'll remind you all just why I'm crazy.

This coming fall is my last semester of school. I am done in December. I have turned in my graduation packet. I only need to pass 9 credits and I am done. Finished. Never have to go to school again.

But that's too easy.

You see, I am graduating with a B.A. in History. Thrilling, I know. Want to know what you can do with a B.A. in History? Go to grad school. Honestly, that's about the best option. So, like so many other sheep, I'm going to take the plunge and apply. Thing is, you can't just apply. You have to take the G.R.E. (cue ominous music).

Are you scared yet?

And, like any good test, you have to pay to take it. Hooray! Oh, and, since whether or not I get admitted to the programs that I'm interested in all hinge on these test scores, much like Ron Burgundy, it's kind of a big deal.

Since it's fairly important, I bet you can guess how the rest of my summer vacation is going to be spent. Yup, totally bought a test prep book. It will be my new bible. I will take as many practice tests as I can, and then in August, I will take the most important test of my life. Just so I can keep going to school.

So much for being done.

The Nectar of the Gods...

By thePatrick

I am a busy person. When it's not summer, I am a full time student. I work at least 32, but usually 40 hours a week. I'm married. I have a little girl. Needless to say, I enjoy some caffeine every now and then.

Now, people at work and school will tell you that I am a fan of Pepsi in the first place. It brings me to my happy place. I am also a fan of sugar. Not so much raw sugar, but that isn't too shabby. I'm not quite as bad a sweet-tooth as Norte, but I can hold my own. I likes me some sweetness.


But Sweet Googly Moogly, people, Pepsi has gone above and beyond.

May I present, Pepsi Throwback. Made with natural sugar. None of that High Fructose Corn Syrup. You see, Pepsi is good. Sugar is good. When you combine the two, it makes crazy good. It's a happier Pepsi. It takes you to your happy place sooner. It makes it easier to smile. It's like tongue kissing an angel.

I might have taken this analogy too far.

Point is, this stuff will make you happier than you've been in weeks. Months. Since that one time in the 11th grade when that girl you liked looked at you and didn't laugh at your pizza face. Either way, drink it. Or buy one for me and I'll drink it. Win-win.

What a Shocking Blog Subject...

By thePatrick

I mean, who knew that I would be writing about Memorial Day on Memorial Day? This truly is one of the most incredible things I've ever done. I guess the thing to do would be talk about the history of Memorial Day, followed by a few of the traditions that have come about and how people celebrate.

It's what a good blogger would do.

But I'm not falling into that trap. I figure that those people who are smart enough to be reading this blog are smart enough to google "Memorial Day." And if you're not, here you go. There's also this, and this, and this. That should get you through.

Instead, I wanted to blog about what Memorial Day means to me.

I was (un)lucky enough to have spent over 8 years in the military, and was even able to go overseas and sweat for a year in a foreign country. It was hot. I made a lot of friends, and a lot of us are still unstable. Iraq may or may not have had anything to do with that. People who enlist tend to be a bit crazy anyway.

Trust me.

But at the risk of sounding sappy, I am glad we have this holiday, and not just because it's a three day weekend. See, Veteran's Day is in November. That's where we remember all those who served our country. They deserve it. Too long hours spent too far away from home for too little pay. But Memorial Day is different. This is when we honor those who weren't fortunate enough to make it back home and start a random blog where they can complain about anything.

But that's not all.

Somewhere along the lines, we started to honor all of our dead. Those who passed on before us. And here's the thing: that's okay. Maybe it's just the history nerd in me, but it's important that we remember those who have gone before us. After all, if they hadn't then we wouldn't have come later.

So yes, thank a veteran. Then, thank your parents. Spend some time learning/thinking about those who went before you. Blah, blah, blah, those who don't learn from the past are destined to repeat it, blah, blah, blah.

And let's hear it for all the cub/boy/girl scouts who are out putting flags on street corners and tombstones. Buy them a hot dog or something.

It's Music Video Friday...

By thePatrick

No Wonder They Smell Better...

By thePatrick

Okay. Before I start this post, I want to make sure that everyone is sitting down. It's okay, I'll wait. Because I know that so many people now days take their computers with them wherever they go just to check up on my blog while walking around. Feeding ducks. Shopping for Hummus. Whatever. Sit down, and prepare to have your mind blown. Ready?

Boys are different that girls.

I'll let that sink in for a minute. Time's up. Anyway, there is nowhere where this is more prevalent than in the married bathroom. No, you sicko, I'm not thinking like that. I'm talking merely about the amount of crap that each one keeps in the room. Take our bathroom, for example. In our shower, my wife has twelve different bottles (not an exaggeration) , each containing either a shampoo, or a conditioner, or a shampoo/conditioner, or a body wash, or something. She has a pumice stone on a stick for her feet. She has a razor. Our little girl also has some stuff in there, but unless you count a purple squeeky alligator or a tugboat full of ocean animals, she doesn't take up a lot of room. You know what I have? Some shampoo that smells like soap, some body wash that smells like a guy should, and a loofah.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I use a loofah.

Then, we move over to our sink/countertop. There are communal items there. Our toothbrushes are there, along with the toothpaste. Naturally, there's some soap. We keep some contact solution there, too, since we're both blind-ish. So, where's all my stuff? I get one small drawer. If I'm lucky, I get to keep my contacts and glasses cases on the countertop, too. My wife gets the other three (one of which she shares with baby for hair stuff). She also gets the cupboards under the sink. And on the countertop, there's a basket full of stuff, a makeup bag full of stuff, and a stack of some makeup tins. Technically, we have a medicine cabinet, too, but the only thing I've ever kept in there is some NyQuil. Love that stuff. Other than that, I think it's all hers.

So why do I bring this up?

Because it's a good thing there are girls who are willing to share a bathroom with people who are fine with smelling with soap and take minimal items to clean themselves. Before I was married, I guess I was technically aware that there was a difference between a shower curtain and a shower curtain liner, but I didn't care what that difference was. Now that I'm married, not only do I know the difference, but our shower curtain matches our soap dispenser, toothbrush holder, garbage can, and toilet brush holder.

I'm civilized.

My wife, and countless numbers of other women like her, work tirelessly to get us to hang up our towels, put the seat down/up, and be considerate enough to spray something after we wreck havoc on the bathroom. In return, they spend hours (slight exaggeration) looking their best for us men-folk. I, for one, am grateful that my wife can tolerate my stench long enough to go out in public with me.

She already handles the moustache every March.

Tomorrow, to celebrate the fact that I'm going to be posting for 5 days in a row, I'm switching it up. See you all then.

The Dumb Is Everywhere...

By thePatrick

A while back, I made a list. Maybe I thought it would be therapeutic if I got it all out of my system. This list involves people that you all see and know. Maybe it involves you. If so, change. What's this list, you ask?

People that Anger Me: a Study in Stupidity.

Brace yourself for a long blog. I'll write them all, but you may want to clear your schedule for a while. I won't go into too much detail, just enough so you know who I'm talking about. And here we go:

The guy who talks/texts on his phone while in the bathroom. The guy who complains about how a bathroom smells when he walks in. The guy that wants to talk to you about anything while you're in the bathroom. The guy at the concert who just bought the bands shirt and is now wearing it. The guy at the concert who keeps yelling out an obscure song title so people think he knows a lot. The guy at the concert who is over 40 (unless it's an age appropriate concert). The sweaty, shirtless crowd surfer. The guy at the game who boos everyone. They guy who calls all the players by their first name because he thinks he's their friend. The guy who sings out loud to his iPod. The guy who can't take his headphones out, even to order a sandwich. The guy who always has to get the last word of an argument. The mumbler. The guy who is the center of every conversation. The guy talking on his phone while standing in line. The guy in class who always asks questions. The guy sitting in the back of class doing his crossword. The old guy in class who has all the life experience. The guy who knows it all. The guy who complains about every assignmetn. The guy who doesn't respect personal boundaries. The guy who sits right next to you when you're at the movies or on a bus and there are plenty of empty seats. The guy who talks to the movie. The guy who goes up the stairs the wrong way. The guy who stands in the middle of the elevator. The guy who walks slow so people can't pass him. The guy who doesn't know the difference between "your" and "you're." The guy who turns left too sharply and almost hits the front of your car. The guy who cuts you off. The guy who drives ahead of everyone in the median and expects to be allowed to merge. The guy that can't figure out a four way stop. The guy who drives for a block in the bike lane so that he can turn right. The guy who leaves his blinkers on. The guy who leaves his blinkers off. The guy who drives slow in the left lane. The guy who merges in front of you then slams on his brakes. The guy who turns into the wrong lane. The guy who won't pass a cop. The guy who drives the radio on wheels. The guy who lives in his car. Freshmen. People how camp out for movie releases. Vegetarians who try to make you feel guilty. Anyone on a Bluetooth. Eleventeen year olds (aka Prostiteens).

Wow. I hate a lot. Therapy, anyone? Did I miss anyone? I need a nap.

I'm An All-Star...

By thePatrick

Recently, I noticed something about who I am and how I relax. You see, I'm a guy, so naturally, I love video games. And, since I'm more manly than most, I don't really care for those fantasy adventure games. Nope, give me something with sports. But here's the secret to video games.

Don't play video games if it's something that you can do in real life.

What's that? You don't understand? Let me explain. I have a hockey game. Now, I played roller hockey for like 2 months in the street by my house when I was 10, and I would shoot a ball into a garbage can, but that's it. So, I have a hockey game that I play. Plus, you can fight.

When I was growing up I played one season of baseball. Yep, one. We won the championship. I played rover. For those of you who don't know, that means that I was the fourth outfielder. I sucked enough that I didn't even have a real position. But in my baseball video game, I friggin' rock. Take that, HGH.

Again, growing up I played one season of football. Naturally, I have to have a Madden game, but I have a college one, too. Because I'm American. And a guy. I have preposterous amounts of testosterone. Proposterone. I even win when I play with the Detroit Lions. 'Nuff said.

So what did I do growing up? I played basketball and more soccer than anyone outside of Latin America knew existed. So, naturally, I can't own those games. Because that's something I can do in real life.

At least I would if I could pry myself away from the Playstation.

Well That Wasn't a Waste of Time or Anything...

By thePatrick

So, last week I had a text message conversation with my mother-in-law. We're cool like that. You don't have to be jealous. Anyway, the main point of the conversation was so that she could tell me that a police officer drove to her house to arrest her for pumping gas and driving off.

I'll repeat that.

A police officer drove to her house to arrest her for pumping gas and driving off. Her words: "He felt kinda stupid when I pulled out my receipt!" But here's where it gets good. Apparently, before he came over, the officer called her and asked her if she pumped gas today. She said yes. He asked if she even tried to pay for it. She said yes, and she had a receipt. So he called the gas station back, but they said they had her on camera stealing gas. So he came to her house to arrest her.

To her house. To Arrest Her. Even though she had a receipt.

I wish I was making this up. Apparently, every other crime had been solved. Rape? Check. Robbery? Yup. Murders? Yeppers. B&E? You Guessed 'Er Chester. The only thing that's left for our officers to do is to track down 45 year old women so that they can prosecute them for pumping gas and driving off. Your vigilance is astounding. The only other option is that the cop was a rookie. I can picture the role call in the morning now:

Chief: Well, today we don't really have anything to do. Earl, you take a hairdryer down to the corner of Main and 17th and pretend that you're checking for speeders. Pull 'em over if they're hot.
Earl: YES!
Chief: Wayne, you'll be in charge of patrolling by the high school and making menacing gestures at all the band kids.
Wayne: Can do, Chief.
Rookie: What about me, Chief?
Chief: Well, there's this 45 year old lady who pumped gas. The video is fuzzy, so we're going to assume that she's stealing. Lock her up.

Other than that, there's really no logical answer.

Quick edit: This weekend we were up in Idaho Falls so that a) C. could take some wedding photos, and b) I could rip out some walls from my bro-in-law's house. While working on the house, the local law enforcement drove past the house at least half a dozen times, just so that he could scout license plates. When my bro-in-law was driving down the road later, he got pulled over, just so the guy could give him a ticket because his plates were expired. This is the same town where people have broken into buildings and stolen a bunch of stuff, but it's more important to pass out tickets for license expiration than find thieves.

Just saying.

This Monday, Monday, Monday...

By thePatrick

Did you miss me? OF COURSE YOU DID! Well, you may have to tough it out just a little bit longer. But only until Monday. But you'll survive, I promise.

Seriously, stop crying. I can wait.

You see, I caught the blogging bug, and I caught it bad. It's way worse than swine flu or monkey pox, or even fire-eagle disease. School got out for the summer, and I decided to take advantage of some time off. But during my break, I realized that there are still millions and millions of way important things floating around in my brain that I need to get out to YOU, my needy public. So I'm going to be a blogging hero. You may have noticed some subtle changes to the blog already. More may or may not be coming, but one of the things that I'm going to try to be doing is expose people to my awesomeness throughout the week.

Do you think you can handle it?

So, I'm going to try to post more and be more blog like in general. What will I post about? Well, I'm married, so I'm sure I'll write about married stuffs. I'm a dad, so I'm sure I'll post about dad stuffs. I'm in school, so I'll write about school stuffs. I'm a guy, so there will be some guy stuffs. I work, so there will be some work stuffs. The list goes on and on. Still totally random. But I'll give it a go, and we'll see if anyone actually notices. I'm actually pretty excited for it. We'll see if it works.

Sometimes...

By thePatrick

Sometimes, you see something and it makes you think of yourself. Sometimes, you see something that makes you laugh. Sometimes, you see something that makes you think of your best friend. Sometimes, you see something that makes you glad that you are prepared for the inevitable zombie apocalypse. This is one of those times...I found this little ditty here. Enjoy your weekend...