Below are the 8 most recent journal entries recorded in supabob's LiveJournal:

Thursday, March 31st, 2005
8:22 pm	FINALLY: The February College Tour 04, Part II: HOLY Cross!!!!! AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been far too long, over a year, since my last entry, "COLLEGE TOUR PART ONE." I have to say my last entry was a little lackluster and I felt I had lost my touch. For months I struggled in my head, thinking "How could I possibly explain all of the awesomeness and insanity of the Holy Cross visit in one entry?" I was sure I would mess it up somehow, and at the same time I couldn't write about anything else until I had completed "PART TWO." Now, over a year later, I've just given in to the fact that it's just a journal entry and it will not be perfect. Also, I forgot half of what happened by now anyway so I figure I might as well just work with what I've got. And so, for better or for worse, here it is... "IS THIS BOB???" the Giant boomed. I looked up approximately seven stories in amazed awe and fear at the colossus I saw before me, afraid that at any minute he might try to eat me or maybe turn me into frozen vegetables (typical giant activities of course). The jolly giant was of course SAM, my brother(Aquaman)'s roommate, whose real first name is the letter H. Sometimes he forgets how to spell his first name though, so he just goes by Sam. Luckily, Sam chose to spare me, and I had a chance to answer his question with a question of my own: "IS THIS SAM???" An old man jumped out of the wall and said, "No, it's H!" but then Sam ate him. Anyway, soon Nomar Reagoon* called announcing his arrival . We went outside and found Reagoon in a car with about 10 little creatures that he claims are related to him and that he is often seen throwing into walls or punching in the stomach. Anyway, among the Reagoonish creatures was also Titus, the lead singer of the All American Rejects. "Wow! Reagoon! You know Titus?" But no, it was not Titus but his clone of sorts, Mr. Spagnuolas*. Aquaman then went to eat lunch, followed by his fan club, made up of myself, Reagoon, Titus, and the smaller Reagoonish creature, PREgan. We met up with Steve, who had incidentally recently destroyed Gavin Mohrman in the heptathlon. *All names have been changed, sort of (except Sam's) Soon the Reagoon clan (and Steve) were on their way once more, leaving just the four of us. We soon went on to the field house for an intense running workout. Or SO WE THOUGHT. We entered the fieldhouse and were suddenly tackled to the ground by Coach Mariani, who then beat us senseless with his stopwatch (every coach's favorite weapon). When we came to, Mariani informed us that since we were not seniors we were breaking the law by being within a mile radius of his fieldhouse and we were also not allowed to breathe the same air as his athletes. And we weren't allowed to look at him. And we had to pretend that we had never met him. And we had to run away. Run away and never look back. RUN AWAY SIMBA!!!! Anyway, we decided that instead of running away we would climb the big rope hanging from the ceiling. We had two spectators. The first was Hoog, who is the DOPPELGANGER of Mike Marrone. The second was a CHAMINADE graduate who thought he was really cool because one time in high school he stole a Black Wave shirt. We, of course, had other thoughts on the matter. Next we went to dinner at Kimball (Kimbell?), which Nomar chose to call Gumbell's for unknown reasons. Of course, there was just enough room at the track table for everyone excluding the three of us. Aquaman insisted that we sit with them anyway, but being as we didn't really feel like sitting in strangers' laps we decided to get our own table. Soon the friendly track team decided it would be fun to throw food at each other. Then they decided that it would be even more fun to throw food at us. And so they did. It was all well and good until they decided to throw entire potatoes at us, which was not so well, and not so good either. We soon decided that instead of taking potatoes in the face, it would be more fun to get ice cream, and so we returned to the glorious all-you-can-eat buffet. Nomar instructed me to call the sprinkles "jimmies" when in the presence of potato-throwing Massholes, and I decided this was a good idea. Soon we departed the dining hall with Aquaman, who announced that it was time to search for the secret Kimball underground sublevels, where some kind of Man-eating Rat People live or something along those lines. After searching downstairs for a good while with no success, we decided that they must not exist. However, Aquaman insisted that they HAD to exist because Justin said so. Then Nomar started an argument over whether everything Justin said had to be true. The obvious conclusion, of course, was that it did, but since we didn't feel like looking anymore we returned to the lair of Aquaman and H Sam. Upon returning to HQ, we encountered H, who announced that he was "going out" because it was "Thursday Thursday." We decided this made no sense, and asked him if he meant "Thirsty Thursday." He laughed crazily and walked out. Next, we played hours of "Smackdown: Shut Your Mouth!" and ate bacon pizza. Winner played on, and Nomar kept winning and so he was forbidden to eat the bacon pizza, since he would grease Sam's controllers. This made Nomar angry, but when Nomar has to decide between feasting on bacon pizza and beating the crap out of his friends, the choice is always clear. Eventually, after watching Super Troopers, we opted to retire for the night. Titus and I comfortably sprawled out on a big futon, while Nomar squeezed into a 3-foot-long couch. After a long period of suffering (at least three minutes), Nomar decided that he was uncomfortable. He then asked Aquaman for permission to kick off the side of the couch so that he could sleep without having his knees lodged in his face. Aquaman insisted that this was not an option, since the couch was very expensive. A short while later, Nomar reminded Aquaman that he had recently told him that the couch was ten dollars. Aquaman owned up to his lie, but insisted that Nomar not destroy the couch anyway, being as it was a nice couch and it just wouldn't be as nice if it was destroyed. We soon drifted off to sleep. Suddenly, we were awakened by a very angry and slightly intoxicated H Sam. Shortly before, I had foolishly closed Sam's laptop so that I could open up the futon, not realizing that this would make the laptop shut off. Sam saw this and was not happy, and so he took the action that any decent rabid Red Sox fan would take, throwing his Red Sox hat into the garbage as hard as he could and loudly shouting "What the FUCK???" We couldn't decide if we were more amused or afraid, and so instead of wasting time deciding we went back to sleep. The next morning we awoke bright and early, or maybe not so much, but either way we awoke and it was morning. We got breakfast at Gumbell’s, or maybe we didn’t, does it really matter? Of course it does. Anyway, at some point Aquaman decided it was time to go to class. He also decided that he would take along Nomar and Titus, but leave me behind, explaining that “three guests is just too much.” But two is okay I guess. They later came back and told of some glorious movie they saw in his science class, where they learned that humans are tetrapods or pseudopods or marsupials or something like that. Aquaman then said that “the movie was awesome” and confusedly asked “why didn’t you just come with us bob?” Aquaman also walked in when I was using his laptop, which I decided could only be used properly if it was on top of my lap. I thought this logic made sense, but Aquaman insisted that “it looks like you’re raping it.” I tried to explain to him that I learned in biology class that this was simply not possible, but he would have none of it. After eating another large and glorious lunch, we decided that it was time to head to the Library, more precisely the Archives underneath the library. We went there to do exactly what libraries are made for, playing Manhunt. It was decided that I would hide first and the other three would look for me. This was probably a bad idea, since I take hiding way too seriously. So anyway, I hid under a desk in the side of the library where I was sure no one would ever find me. As it turned out, I was completely right for once. I didn’t realize that after fifteen minutes or so the other guys had given up and left. This was after they had tried to lure me out by making various loud and obnoxious birdcalls. These calls clearly greatly annoyed the people around us who were “working,” but being as it was Friday afternoon we decided that either A.) they were losers or B.) they were just stupid OR C.) they were jealous of our awesomeness, and so in any case we deemed them unworthy of being cared about. Eventually, after literally 45 minutes of crouching under the same desk, I decided it was time to leave. In order to do so, I had to undergo a painful ordeal that made it seem exactly like the desk was giving birth to a human (me). While in the middle of this awkward process, I looked up and realized that within direct view up a flight of stairs was an entire tour group of about 25 people, most of whom were staring at me with looks of befuddlement and/or rage. One old man in particular gave me a dirty look that seemed to clearly say, “You DISGUST me!” And so I shot back a look at him that clearly said, “DEAL WITH IT Old Man!!!” Anyway, I eventually escaped from my desk and returned to the lair of Aquaman and H Sam, where everyone was playing “Shut Your Mouth!” and seemed to have forgotten or at least lost interest in my existence. At some point we returned to Gumbell’s for another feast. Afterwards, we went to the computer lab nearby, where we logged onto a bunch of computers next to each other and downloaded AIM so that we could talk to each other, because using our vocal cords would be way too much effort. Then we decided to change the backgrounds on all the computers we were using from the standard Windows wallpaper to the standard Porn wallpaper. We then laughed heartily at our clever feat, which seemed to irritate a female college student at another computer. But being as she was a marked “Friday Worker,” you already know what we thought of her. After much merriment, we decided that the world of Holy Cross was not yet ready to witness such examples of our creativity, and so we changed all of the backgrounds back, for the time being at least. We returned to the dorm, and in the hall along the way Nomar carefully knocked at one of his favorite speakeasies, which he had revealed to us were hidden all along the walls of the dorm. We also repeatedly walked to the snack machine in order to pass a hot girl sitting in a room nearby. Eventually, we settled back into the dorm room, where we watched Road Trip and indulged in more glorious hours of Family Guy DVDs and playing “Shut Your Mouth!” We then went to bed, everyone in the same places as before, although I can’t understand or remember how we managed to make Nomar take the couch again. But he did, and he was a good sport about it. Not really though. He asked H Sam if he could sleep on the floor, but H insisted that he could not because it was a fire hazard. Nomar didn’t realize that this was just H Sam humor, and so unfortunately it was his loss. The next day, we arose once more and feasted at Crossroads, a Holy Cross restaurant named after Britney Spears’ hit movie, which was called Crossroads. Then, after many tearful goodbyes to Aquaman and H Sam, we hit the road again, just like they did in Britney Spears’ hit movie, which was called Crossroads. We traveled back on the ferry, where we saw an old man who was sitting transfixed staring at a pole. Nomar and Titus had already told me of this man two days before, and so I guess he must have been stalking us or maybe he was just stalking the pole. In any case, we soon arrived home and went our separate ways. It was a trip that none of us would ever forget, for we had all learned a very important lesson: Never take your shirt off around a Chaminade kid. Actually, we already knew that, so here’s a different one: Never piss off a Red Sox fan, especially a slightly intoxicated one, unless of course you are willing to risk your life for a good laugh. Who am I kidding, there were too many valuable lessons to sum up in one paragraph, so I’ll just close this up with one happy thought: SHUT YOUR MOUTH! (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, March 5th, 2004
10:32 pm	The February College Tour 04, Part I: Crouching Bob, Hidden Cheetah Well, it certainly has been a very long time since I last updated this journal. I'm sure there are many of you adventure-hungry people out there who have been dying for another exciting and inspiring installment of the Adventures of SuperBob to quench your appetite for scrumptulescentaliciousness for the last three weeks. And here it is. First, I must tell of my adventures traveling on my exciting February break college tour. This quest took me first to the land known only as Boston, where I had the pleasure of riding on the T. The T is a great marvel of human thought. It's a lot like the subway system of New York, except that it actually makes sense. Also, all of the lines are color-coded, so even if you don't know how to read or count you can cruise around Boston and actually know where you're going. This isn't true in New York, where all the subway lines are designed to make you feel very stupid as you get on to go to Central Park and somehow end up in either Cincinnati or Canada, depending which line you take, where you will meet people who don't know how to count and haven't yet found their way to Boston. Anyway, the T was full of a combination of old men with briefcases and college guys with crazy eyes, wild hair, and Red Sox hats. Anybody wearing a Red Sox hat should be avoided at all costs, they're all completely insane and will bite you if you come close enough to them. Luckily, I survived the T ride and made it to my first destination, Boston University. Here I met up with the Radioactive Cheetah, a.k.a. Alexis. I said Hi to Alexis. Then Alexis punched me. I gave her a weird look, wondering how anyone would even consider antagonizing a massive, muscular Bob such as myself. She said that my brother had told her to do that. He said I would laugh. I did not laugh. It was a weak punch, the Cheetah was not at her fiercest this day. Next time the Cheetah must inflict much more pain and I will probably laugh. The Cheetah showed me around BU, where there was a dining hall with a table that had a gigantic pile of apples. At the time, I had no idea how much these little fruits would come to dramatically change the course of events in one day of the life of Bob. But that's a story for another entry. Alexis also showed me BU's track, which is like a little piece of indoor track heaven if you haven't seen it before. Then I shoved Alexis' face into the bumpy track floor and punched her in the stomach as hard as I could and shouted, "HOW DOES IT FEEL???? HOW DOES IT FEEL??? WHY AREN'T YOU LAUGHING, PAIN IS FUNNY!!!!!" Actually, I didn't do that, although the idea may have crossed my mind. I bid farewell to the Cheetah and traveled onward on the T to Boston College. This is a very special place to me because of something that happened when I was there six years ago. I saw a guy there dressed exactly like Doug Funny, with the brown shorts and green sweater vest and everything. It was amazing. If you have never seen a guy dressed like Doug Funny, you haven't really lived. Anyway, there was some lady there that talked for an hour about how St. Ignatius has his hand in the air in some painting. Apparently this woman thought it was very amazing that St. Ignatius put his hand in the air. My trip to BC was very inspiring. I decided that I must go to school there because St. Ignatius put his hand in the air. Actually, my real reason for applying will be that they gave me free cookies. This is why I dread college essays that will ask why I want to go to the college. Most college admissions people are losers who have no understanding of the beauty of being given an unlimited amount of free cookies. But I'll worry about that later. The next day, I traveled to Tufts University, where it seemed like everyone who went there was extremely excited about an upcoming presentation of the Vagina Monologues. It was either everyone or a few people that some foolish person had given some sidewalk chalk to. Because sure enough, I was walking up some path and there it was: 'VAGINA,' all in chalk. This is enough to take you aback a little. It wasn't just one place though, it was everywhere. These sidewalk chalk users must have been on speed or had rabies or something, they had gone on an all-out rampage with the whole vagina thing. Needless to say, I walked over the word vagina in chalk at least 37 times. I thought I could find some refuge in the bookstore. I ran as fast as I could to the door. "HA!" I thought to myself, "I've won!" But alas, it was not so. As I triumphantly grabbed the doorknob in a fit of ecstasy, I saw it. Right there. Next to the doorknob, small enough that it wasn't too visible from far away, and partly hidden from far away by the wall. VAGINA. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHH. I ran away from Tufts University as fast as I could, strongly convinced that I was being chased by a crazed mob of chalk-bearing Vagina People. Happily I was able to escape the horror of Tufts. Next I ventured to Harvard, where an annoying gremlin lady attacked me and kicked me out of the dining hall. This made me very angry. Harvard will not have the pleasure of being considered by this Bob as a result. The next and most exciting part of my college tour was of course my stay at Holy Cross. However, this is an entire adventure of its own, and I grow weary. Look forward to a tale of drunken giants, secret underground sublevels, flying potatoes, online conspiracies, small couches, jimmies, evil college Chamis, never-ending library manhunt, and of course more rabid Red Sox fans in my next installment. Until then, I hope you enjoy reading, and always remember: I am a professional Bob, do not try to replicate these intense adventures yourself. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, February 12th, 2004
1:25 am	MSG Wars: Episode One- Attack of the Clones I am writing this journal entry very late at night right now, or you might say very early in the morning if you so choose. I would sleep but have been urged by one of my rabid crazed fans to provide the world with more samples of my awesomeness. You might now find yourself saying "Hm.. he thinks he is full of awesomeness, what a cocky loser" and to that I say, well, those weren't my words, but rather the words of one of my crazed fans. No, I lied, I am a loser, I think I'm one of few people that frequently uses the word awesomeness, also I spend more time talking to myself in my journal than I spend talking to human beings in real life. In other news, though I am writing this early Friday morning I changed the entry date because 12 is a lot cooler number than 13. But I digress. The real thing I wanted to write about was my adventures last Friday night at Madison Square Garden, where I traveled to see the world-famous Millrose Games. At this event I had the joy of sitting in section 422, which most people don't even know exists. Of course the MSG people know that it exists, but they don't want anyone else to know. In fact, they absolutely hate high school punks like me that manage to get a ticket to the world-famous Millrose Games for only ten dollars. It is for this reason that they make the world-famous Millrose Games viewing experience as unpleasant as possible for Level 4-Hundreders like myself and my loyal companions. This is also why the escalators mysteriously stop working immediately after Level 3. Having escalators stop before the last level like this is a cruel and unnecessary punishment for getting a ten dollar ticket. It may not seem so bad, but try to imagine escalating yourself blissfully up through three levels of lazy nonmoving awesomeness. Yes, I said awesomeness again, it's just that great. Now picture yourself moving toward the last escalators that shall bring you to your final destination, which is Section 422 in case you forgot already. The oxygen is getting thin, this is where you need those little self-moving stairs the most. Besides, you love the way new steps keep magically coming out of the ground without running out. You step onto the shiny step of glory and stand there for several minutes wondering why the awesomeness is not starting, but it can't because the stairs aren't moving! You angrily throw your fists in the air and curse the evil unseen MSG monsters that have brought this pain upon you as you dejectedly walk up the steps that were designed to walk up for you. Now as you finally reach Level 4 you become excited to see that at least the unseen MSG monsters were decent enough to put a bathroom on your level. You may be tempted to run full speed into this bathroom, swinging your arms in a mad windmill motion, and screaming like a lunging banshee in order to celebrate this small victory, but don't! You will run directly into the back wall, break your nose, have blood stream down your face, and be in pain, for this is not a bathroom but a storage closet. The bathroom is down the hall and is unfortunately smaller than the storage closet you narrowly avoided pulverizing your face on the back wall of. Again, you curse the unseen MSG monsters that have forced you to relieve yourself in uncomfortably close contact with the person next to you- a fat, weird-smelling, strange-looking creature who introduces himself as Bob. You don't particularly like people that introduce themselves to you as both of you simultaneously urinate in a 2 x 2 closet. For a third time, you find yourself cursing the unseen MSG monsters, mainly because you have found a new and exciting thrill in loudly cursing out invisible monsters while in public bathrooms. I hope this vivid imagery helped you to imagine my situation last week. O, by the way, the guy in the bathroom next to you would naturally be me. Now I shall return to my narrative of my actual experience. Of course, you now understand my hatred for the unseen MSG monsters. But wait! It gets even more exciting. I soon came to meet the MSG monsters myself, face to face. As the time neared to watch my fearless fellow Friars unleash the fury in the world-famous CHSAA 4x800 meter relay, my companions and I decided to venture down into the lower levels to get a closer look, since the height of our Level 4 seats allowed us only an occasional glimpse at a pole vaulter that may break through the clouds far, far, far, far down below where there was also rumored to be a track. A deep-voiced man on TV just asked me if I wanted a flatter, sexier midsection. This has nothing to do with my entry, I just found it humorous. Anyway, we traveled down to Level 1 to get a better view. Scoping out the situation, we picked a strategic position sitting in the aisle that we felt would suit our viewing purposes nicely. Sadly, our enjoyment that came with sitting in this place was to be short-lived. For unknown to us, the MSG monster had been lurking in the shadows nearby, and he now came to strike. He was a large burly man that looked like he could bench-press at least 8, maybe 37, Bobs. In case you were not aware, the Bob is a standard of weight measurement equal to 138 pounds. He was also wearing a green suit. And of all the green suits I've seen, this was by far the greenest. If you ever see a large green-suited monstrosity of a man coming your way, remember that it is absolutely essential that you run away from him. If you don't, you will have to face the horror of what he will do next, as I did. He will come up to you, make a scary MSG monster face, and say those four dreadful words: "Please find your seats." As if we had lost our seats. As if we could not find our way through the megalith known as the Garden. As if we cared what he said. We were still determined to have a good view of our fearless fellow Friar friends unleash the fury, so we cleverly went in search of our seats as the Green Monster had suggested, and then conveniently forgot where we were sitting again as we moved on to the next opening. And now the terror really began, as we discovered that there was not one, not two, not even sixty-seven and a half, but indeed an absolutely infinite number of green-suited MSG monsters out to get us. And so here was another, about the same as the first except that he looked big enough to bench about a bajillion and three Bobs. We decided to move onward rather than waiting for this one to confront us. But there was no place for us to hide. They were everywhere, covering the floor of Level 1 to such a great extent that it was very similar in appearance to the swarm of females that typically cover yours truly. The Green Suits were indeed multiplying, and the Garden was very much against us. Ultimately, however, we emerged victorious, as we always do, realizing that we could outsmart the Green Suits simply by walking around Level 1 in continuous never-ending circles as we watched our fearless fellow Friar friends unleash the fury. So if you ever travel to Madison Square Garden yourself, be brave and buy a ten dollar ticket. Dare to challenge the Green Suits to a fierce battle of wits as you attain a first level view at a fourth level price. And be sure to check out the grassroots rebel resistance up on Level 4, where MSG snack guys will give you free popcorn at the end of the night when the green-suited monsters aren’t looking. Congratulate these men of courage as they hand you your very own piece of green-suited-monster-resisting popcorn-filled glory. And please- do not throw your free popcorn at your friend Bob. Bobs become angered at this. Bobs become especially angered when the popcorn thrown at them was popcorn they had planned to eat. This was an especially long entry, even for a Bob like myself. I’m not entirely sure how I managed to take the time to write the whole thing, I was probably on something at the time. More importantly, however, is the fact that you have probably read the whole thing if you made it to this point. Congratulations. You wasted several minutes of your life. Whatever possessed you to read this journal in the first place, be glad that it did. This is the most informative method of procrastination you’ll find. Feel proud. You are indeed a truly dedicated reader of the Adventures of Superbob. And by the way, I have indeed always wanted a flatter, sexier midsection in case you were wondering. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, February 10th, 2004
8:07 pm	This Is Not What the Rats Had in Mind This evening I came home to find that my mom had created a new and interesting dish for dinner. It looked exciting enough, until closer examination showed that it had absolutely no meat in it, which makes protein-hungry giants such as myself most irritable.            My mom also had a unique name for this dish. She called it Ratitooie. Ratitooey, which is pronounced Ratpoo in English, directly translates from Old Italian into "I forgot to buy food today so I decided to throw tomato sauce on rice and attempt to pass it off as a meal" Keen-minded Bobs are not easily fooled by such simple ploys. Keen-minded Bobs also recognize the fact that tomato sauce on rice is not a real meal. Being a keen-minded Bob, I recognized these obvious facts but kept quiet as I devoured my food. I'm not really sure where I was going with this whole story. I think I had something good to say, but I forgot. Anyway, I probably ate piles of some other food to satisfy my massive hunger, but I can't really remember. If you find yourself disappointed with this rather boring entry, you are not alone. Millions of Americans often find such disappointment in Bob entries which lack the characteristic Bob flair due to the sad fact that Bob is distracted by the O'Neill key history terms he must define. Key Terms are a rather foolish breed of homework. Most of them are made up to confuse students, using such ridiculous and far-fetched words as "Thomas Jefferson" and "American Revolution." Clearly, these are not real things and therefore no definition can be found for them. Furthermore, the way key terms are checked makes no sense. Mr. O'Neill walks around the room and looks at them quickly, asking if you defined all of them. Being in the third row, I am able to honestly say that I have defined all of the words after quickly scribbling such clever definitions as "Leisler's Rebellion- a rebellion led by Leisler" and "Quakers- people who make Quaker Cinnamon Oat Squares," which happen to be one of my favorite snacks which is why I love Quakers and anyone that goes to Friends Academy even though the name of the school sounds stupid. Anyway, I still have no idea who Leisler is, but I'm sure he wouldn't have rebelled against whatever he rebelled against if only he had been fed some good old meat with cinnamon Quaker oat squares in place of Rat poo. And that's why the Cold War was fought, which many historians stubbornly refuse to admit. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, February 7th, 2004
8:05 pm	Old Room, New Monsters This evening I decided to devote hours of my life to slaying the monster that had taken over my room in the past months, or years, or however long it's been. This monster is like no other monster. It is the monster known as clutter, and it had transformed the peaceful land of my room into a nightmarish pile of crap. And like the top secret terrorist cells the government is currently hunting, the Monster is shadowy, elusive, and frustratingly difficult to destroy. My initial attack on the monster was more of a morale booster than a direct assault. I made my bed. This accomplished basically nothing, but seeing my bed all nice and made makes me happy. Next, I launched my first ground assault of Operation Chicken Foot. The name of my operation may not seem to really make any sense, but secret operation names seldom do, for people like myself that execute such secret ops create meaningless names based on the constant fear of having our plans intercepted by the enemy, who can be anyone that threatens national security and personal privacy. Actually, I lied, it's just Michael Jackson, but that's classified, so keep it on the down-low. Anyway, my first ground assault was against my desk, which the Monster had been using as its base. My desk had been covered with piles and piles of things that had not seen sunlight for several months. My solution was to take all of these things off my desk and put them on the floor. Seeing my desk with nothing on it made me smile and the Monster screech, as he often does when angered. However, the Monster had the last laugh, as I soon found. For at the back of my desk there was something that I had apparently chucked there months earlier and which had remained disguised under my many piles of desk crap ever since. As you probably already guessed, it was of course a Halls cough drop. Unlike most Halls cough drops, however, this one had apparently been brainwashed by the Monster and subsequently joined the Dark Side. Instead of sitting calmly within its wrapper, as good cough drops do, this particular little monster had somehow managed to completely melt and subsequently reharden into a bizarre blob-like shape, stuck firmly to the nice surface of my innocent desk. What's worse, this was not only not a tasty cough drop, it was a terrible terrible cough drop. Honeydew butterscotch or honey lemon vapor or crap honey, or whatever it was, it involved honey and badness, and it was no friend of mine, which was probably why I had chucked it to the back of my desk where I couldn't see it. Anyway, prying this sticky hardened honey mess from my desktop proved to be no easy feat. I grabbed my trusty metal spoon, which I had also found under some piles of stuff on my desk, and went to work. Unfortunately, even my trusty metal spoon proved to be a puny match for this little honey monster freak thing. I searched in vain for a new weapon, fearing that the Monster had indeed won this battle. Suddenly, I saw it. It was a Swiss Army knife that I had found in a pile of Swiss Army knives on my desk. This little marvel of Swiss engineering indeed lived up to its reputation, and the honey monster was soon little more than a bad memory. So once again, I won a decisive victory over the Monster. He's still around, though, working in the shadows and planning new attacks. But whenever he strikes, I'll be there, and so will my trusty Swiss Army knife, ready to thwart whatever evil schemes he plans. So this journal entry is dedicated to you, Mr. Swiss Army knife. You may have no lockblade and find amusement in trying to slice off all of my fingers whenever I use you, but you sure know how to show up big when it really counts. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, February 4th, 2004
7:14 pm	How to Get Ahead in the Music Industry The following ten tips are directed towards you, Janet Jackson. (I know you've been reading my journal) 1. You can't sing 2. You are not good-looking 3. We do not want to see your breasts 4. They are not good-looking either 5. Stop trying, you're just annoying 6. Leave me alone 7. Stop reading this!!! 8. Why are you still here??? You psycho stalker!!! 9. Stop reading! Leave! Now! 10. AAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHH I'm going to bite you! (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, February 3rd, 2004
7:07 pm	An Interesting Chat Room Excerpt for Your Entertainment Value AQUAMAN974: we already solved ur problem AQUAMAN974: and the title of the article will be: im in love with a bull who is in love with the orange that is currently lodged in my rectum sno Board37x: hahahahahahahahahahahaha BobFarr212: hahaha excellent sno Board37x: samuel l. jackson AQUAMAN974: indeed AQUAMAN974: hey guys AQUAMAN974: i just went in the bathroom AQUAMAN974: to clean my metal fork AQUAMAN974: cus im done eating sno Board37x: would you like a medal or a monument? AQUAMAN974: an sam an bobby came in, and i was bent over the sink AQUAMAN974: i mean adam AQUAMAN974: not bobby AQUAMAN974: and adam was about to get in the shower AQUAMAN974: an they were talking AQUAMAN974: about this girl AQUAMAN974: whos "a psycho" AQUAMAN974: and i turned off the water AQUAMAN974: and spun around with my fork AQUAMAN974: and looked at adam with crazy eyes AQUAMAN974: and then ran out AQUAMAN974: aaaaaaaaahahhahahahah AQUAMAN974: wait AQUAMAN974: why did u just say samuel l jackson sno Board37x: i dunno, he's cool (Comment on this)
Sunday, February 1st, 2004
9:15 pm	The Week in Review hm, let's see what interesting things I can remember about this week... Monday- me, Kessel, and Kramer took a trip down to the sump and found the frozenaliciousness level to our liking, even though Kramer stalked around the outside like some kind of gremlin elf without actually going on the ice Tuesday- School canceled a day before, pure awesomeness Wednesday- Snow Day, shoveling and whatnot Thursday- pole vaulters got us a nice 10 point lead Friday- Winter Pep Rally- Vazzana was the star of the show. Then came another trip to the sump- the most beautiful thing I saw all week was Byrnes' slow dance on the ice with Robeson. Brad nearly died, but after a 5 minute period of a weird, spitting, blinded, stumbling stupor that he can't even remember was luckily able to remember who the first person to play James Bond was, and I knew he was ok. Friday's Quote of the Day came from Mr. O'Neill: "Farrelly, you're especially feisty today." Sunday- League Championships- an awesome win for St. Anthony's and TJ Toro jumped 6 feet In the 2 mile, I was breathing down the neck of McDermott for a good amount of time; I really made him fight. Of course, he had just lapped me, but it was satisfying nonetheless. And the Moment of the Week: Brother Antonio lying down in our team picture Current Music: Everclear- Slow Motion Daydream (4 Comments |Comment on this)