Two jobs??

So I'm sitting here, at my job, basically doing the MOST work, and this guy comes up to me and says "So is this your only job?"

Pff, what kind of presumptuous question is that???

So I quickly retort, "Yes sir, it IS my only job. And I'm satisfied with that."
Giving me an odd look, he disappointedly says "You'll never be anything. Ever."
Getting TOTALLY PISSED, I decided it was time for something drastic. So right then and there I sat this guy down and explained the recreational benefits of only working at one part-time job, along with the psychological benefits that accompany an overall lower stress level. "Sir, overloading myself would not only be unwise, it would be downright unhealthy!" Showed that asshole, oh yeah.

However, today, not even five minutes ago, ANOTHER man walks up to me at my office desk and says "So...this your only job?"

What is this? What. Is. This?? Do they know something I don't? Are gas prices skyrocketing? Is the economy heading towards a recession? Would I have more money with a second job?

Well, yes. But I know all those things. I'm looking for the part they know that I'm missing out on! Perhaps my town is secretly passing a law that would require all denizens to have two jobs! Shit! That must be it!!! Well I'm not going to jail, no sir! And I won't put up with a $500 fine either!
Subway, here I come!

The best way to go

When life gets you down, sometimes you just want to end it all, you know? And sometimes people do. That's stupid and selfish. However, If I ever decided to kill myself, I've come up with the perfect method. I'd get on a plane with some sort of private pilot who knew what I was going to do and was totally helping me along, and when we've reached a good height I'd take some poison. Medium-speed stuff, like it'll kill me somewhat fast. Next, I'd tie a plastic bag over my head. Then, slit my wrist with a razor. At that point I would jump out of the plane with a gun in one hand shooting my foot repeatedly, and a knife in the other, stabbing and carving into my abdominals. Now see, the game is to try and stay alive AND conscious until I hit the ground, which hopefully is around 2 minutes. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, I should make it water, so that if by some amazing miracle I survived EVERYTHING, I would drown after. Perfect.

PLEASE don't take this as a warning sign. I was just discussing suicide with my friend Mike. I have too many social ties to even consider suicide until my late fifties when my wife leaves me, my son becomes paralyzed from the neck down, and my dog explodes. Those are basically the prerequisites.

It's getting a bit...CHILI in here! (LOL foreshadowing pun!)

So this afternoon I'm sitting in my boxers watching Wayne's World and eating chili when I feel that the chili has become just a little too cold! After re-heating it for three minutes I carefully remove the bowl and scoop out a spoonful. Steaming hot, go figure. So I'm blowing on it, and the thought occurs to me: How far away should my mouth be while blowing on my chili? If I'm too far away my breath will disperse wastefully! (which it originally did; I was blowing cold air on my pantless leg), but too close and my breath is warmer! Plus I risk the chance of blowing chili on myself! Nobody wants a hot chili-leg!
This is just one of the many questions I'm gonna end up asking God when I reach Heaven. That, and: Did Sam Martin have a crush on me in 7th grade? I mean, did I blow that? It's not like I have a thing for her now, I just figure with our history she would have been pre-dispositioned to dig me. But oh well! That's all in the past!





(I love you Sam. I love you. Let's run to Guam and raise 3 pigmi children together.)

FAX SENT

I'm faxing things RIGHT NOW. No lie! I can't believe it myself. I just can't. I...I don't trust myself...


So this is MY blog. I figure I need to be the MOST honest in MY blog so that everyone who reads it hears the REST of the story. So if I offend anyone with my posts, I'm definitely not apologizing. This is a compilation of all the stuff, ALL the STUFF, that flops into my head. Here we go. Watch out.


So today...what did I DO?? Woke up, something about...eating...BREAKFAST. I ate breakfast. Next, I did some other stuff. I refuse to continue as such, because "what I did today" blogs are boring. But...nothing else is coming to my brain. I...can't...HEY. HEY YOU. STOP.

Fuck, I'm just typing words now. Tangents not happening today. Stop reading. It's not interesting at all. Not that I want it to be, but it's not what I want! It's you, the consumer. The one who eats all my words; that's who counts. I heard something of mild and bland interest today. It's about sex!

Apparently the average man, on average, has sex once a week. And also apparently, if you can double that amount (sex once every 3.5 days) you increase your life expectancy by three years! Incredible, is it not? So I devised a foolproof scheme! My newfound plan is to have sex EVERY DAY in college, either with one chick or a platter of lovely ladies (and some not so lovely) and in doing so I will live forever. Personally, I'd prefer the one chick, cuz love and immortality go hand in hand in my mind. Sure, thousands of women would be quite appealing, but hey, not only is that a shallow and listless life, you also negate the immortality with STD's and Herpes. I should diagram this thought more clearly. If we look at the percentage of people with STD's (I googled it and found that 1 in every 4 teens contracts an STD each year) The equation would look like this (going off a yearly scale):

Where x = years of living
and y = number of sexy times
and w = women you sexy time



x = 65 + (365y - 1/4w)



That's not right at all. But dammit I stopped at algebra II and this is some advanced trig shit. You think I have thyme for that? You're sadly mistaken.

EDIT: I revised the equation...it COULD be right, assuming that an STD only takes off years equal to the number of women you slept with to GET the disease, which isn't true under most circumstances. But dammit, for me it is!

Well either way, I'm statistically screwed.


...HAH PUN!!

Three times it drops? Yep, three times...

I went to the new Indiana Jones movie last night with a bunch of people and sat by two guys I'm...kinda?? friends with? It's two of those guys where, yeah, we get along, and yeah, we're friends, but what in God's name can we talk about? We never hang out, I don't know their humor as much as I'd want to, so I had that whole "walking on eggshells" feeling.

That story I just told was by far more interesting than the new Indiana Jones. That movie SUCKED.

Charlie? Awesome

I'd like to take this time to make mention of a real Amercan hero. His name is Charlie Hill-a-gawss. He was all "Make this blog!" I was all "K cool!" and history was made. You can find his blog at charlieawesome.blogspot.com . It's worth at least two reads, assuming you can find my blog to click on his.

I'm at work at the moment. Gotta put the laundry in, mostly towels, actually all towels, and I really have to use the little jon's room. Some of you may be wondering "Well Jon, why is it that you are blogging instead of doing these things?" I-unno. I'm pretty zonked right now. My friend FACE and I were gonna go kickbox and work out hardcore this morning at 7:00, but when the alarm went off he shut it off and immediately went back to sleep. I held a small conversation with him at that thyme.

him- "That is FUCKING ANNOYING."
me- "Dude, it's 5:30."
him- "Yeah. It is."

So we didn't go to the gym. I couldn't really tell if he realized it, but right before he fell asleep last night he lifted his head and said "Sweeeeeet!" in a high falsetto, and when I said "What?" he simply replied "Party" and put his head back down. Only FACE could say "party" in his sleep. Only him.

I really wanted to go this morning too! I mean, fuck, when you share a bed with a guy due to lack of places to sleep, you kinda wanna fight things the next day to prove your masculinity! Oh well. We just woke up and played "Sports" which is our code word for a game we're probably too old to play. Just think about it.

Some of you may be wondering "Jon, why do you want to exercise so much? I'm fat and lazy, and I'M perfectly happy!" Well jerk, I'll tell ya that I have a very specific goal in mind when I lift. And if you ever ask me my goal in person I will tell you this same thing: I want to lift a million. I haven't decided how, why, or what exactly that means, but I am heart-set on lifting a million. When people ask how much I lift now, I usually say "I dunno, a couple hundred thousand. I gotta work on it." That usually satisfies their curiosity.

Speaking of which, last night FACE and I went to his house to get "rackets" for our "Sports" and on the way out the term "Curiosi-kitty" came to my mind. Curiosikitty is probably a superhero of some sort. Also I thought about a werewolf that was injected with some sort of serum? And he'll die if he turns human again, cuz his human form is too weak. Because of this, he constantly is sprinting against the earth's rotation and fighting to stay under the moon. Along the way he meets a scientist girl (love interest?) who injects him with a temporary stall of the human-reversal effects (basically, he can stay werewolf all day), and together they work to find a cure under the pressure of time. (I guess maybe the stay-werewolf serum can only be used a certain number of times before the body builds an immunity). There are some contingency issues with the plot so far, like how can a werewolf talk to a human? Wouldn't he just eat the girl? The serum that's killing him probably made him self-aware. We'll go with that. I smell an Oscar for the actor who can accurately portray a sad werewolf who struggles with his own identity on a daily basis while constantly fearing the Reaper.

This is probably all boring. Don't read that stuff up there. I gotta throw that wash in.

Water-You waiting for!?

It seems that a blog provides ample freedom for me to write what I please, since I firmly believe only 1 other person reads what I write! Nobody better ruin that for me by telling me they read this, I SWEAR TO GOD.

Today was amazing. Amazing. Everyone was attractive. Everyone I saw. It was just that kind of day! By that, I feel the need to clarify, I do NOT mean that I wanted to hump the world. I am merely stating that all the people around me put on friendly, approachable faces.
And then, there were some people that I did in fact wish to hump. People are hot.

So get this- I take a little trip to Wal Mart today (the place with a lot of stuff) to buy an ipod charger/connector. On my way to the connector I see the gift cards. Itunes gift cards! Zune gift cards! Wal Mart gift cards! Sweet! This gave me an idea. I'll present it as a sales pitch.

Tired mothers, have you ever woken up in the morning and found yourself saying "I would be most honored to lend my niece $3000 to assist her in the battle against the ever-rising Cost Of Living Adjustment, but how can I be sure she doesn't spend the money on pot and the reefer?" Well my friends, look no further!

New!

Strong!!

Handsome!??

Bill-Paying Gift Cards!

That's right folks! From here on out you can be CERTAIN your hard-earned cash is spent wisely by it's mooch-of-a-recipient! Now your child, granddaughter, wayward aunt, step-half-brother, great gam gam, or illegitimate husband can spend YOUR money on THEIR bills with NO RISKS INVOLVED! THAT'S RIGHT! NO! RISKS INVOLVED!


K that's it. This idea is revolutionary. The trick is that since Itunes cards are fucking worthless outside of Itunes, these Bill-Paying Gift Cards (or BPGC's) are absolutely flawless*!! I come up with the best ideas when I have a good day! I hope this helps all the poor people with rich relatives!


*Unless of course the recipient sells the card for an equal cash value.







Hey! Another thought! Is it just me, or is TV becoming evil?

Work Ethic

Let me tell you colleges about me. My work ethic is similar to an inverted bell-shaped curve. What's a bell-shaped curve some of you might ask? Well basically, it's low at the beginning, high in the middle, and low on the end.

5/21/08

Three profound thoughts

Last night as I laid in bed thinking to myself many things, I was struck with three profound thoughts I want to share. Firstly and foreMOSTly:

How many calories does toothpaste have?
We don't even KNOW! Do you realize that? We don't even know. Scientists struggle with great effort to unmask the murder mystery that is the caloric count of toothpaste. Every time I eat it I find myself thinking, "Is this fattening? How large is a serving size? Does this toothpaste contain high fructose corn syrup?" These are questions that are begging to be answered people!

Next, and nextmostly:

I feel really, REALLY bad for flies trapped in spiderwebs.
Oh. My. Godsh. Think about this- you're a fly, you're buzzing around, not hurting anything (except poop) and you decide to buzz into a nice garbage can. It's a totally innocent gesture, you just wanna see if there is anything you may work at corroding! (because all flies want to be corroders when they grow up. That's why fly life is so simple. The job availability is almost limitless.) Suddenly VOIP! You are trapped in a giant web*! You start kicking, screaming, retching to and fro, but nothing will get you out of this web! As I laid there in my bed, I put myself in the position of the fly. And I saw her. The giant, black, EVIL spider, whose only purpose is HATE. Oh, that, and PARALYZING YOU WITH VENOMOUS FANGS. And guess what idiot? You're still alive! Yep! You're just chillin out, can't move your face muscles or your feelers, and you just WAIT for DEATH. That's honestly worse than anything our human judicial system could do. Because after all that, guess what? You're eaten. But not just eaten, your body is slowly dissolved, often times starting at the legs and moving towards your vital organs (cuz spiders like making you watch your own dissolvation). It's the worst.



*Note that "giant web" is in comparison to the size of the fly. In all actuality it's probably not that large.

And finally, and finalmostest:

Does having small ears help you hear small sounds?

This one is a thought we all take for granted. Many would say "Yes, Jon, it DOES mean that." Well guess what loser, it may not be that simple. If your ears get smaller, and sounds waves stay the same size, you shouldn't be able to pick them up as well with small ears.
Oh, before I continue, I should clarify that I was thinking about being shrunken down to a tiny size, and then I thought about what larvae would sound like as their bodies squished and slothered around. Then I thought about standing in front of one to fight it, but the idea of it crushing me and eating me like tree bark was unsatisfying to say the least.
Now then, small ears. What the heck? Can you hear small noises better with them? Or would that larva be completely silent. Another good argument to make is, Hey, nothing else that small has ears! Wonder why! Probably because in order for them to have semi-useful ears they would have to be three times the size of the creature itself. That's no good, the lil' buggies would have no way of functioning properly with ears that size. Too heavy.
Anyway, I am putting off friends to write this message! I was asked to go to Rudi's pizza and not order anything, and I'm a man of conviction! -I may have used that word wrong, or even if it's right it may not mean anything in context of the last sentence, but dammit I'm American. We treat you right! Bah-dap, bah-bah-bah! It's all inside! Hot pockets!

Optimus Jon strikes!

So I'm Jon. I was just forced to start a blog by the bestest in the world, Charlie. He rockxxxx. To my left is the best damn piano in the world. To my right is actually nobody. =(((

My goal for this blog is this- to write a blog. I've never done it. I'm gonna do it k? K.

Merrily merrily merrily merrily! Life is but a dream!

K that's what that guy played. Andy. It's probably worth it to make a blog, because my mind can have an outlet. With my bros and hos and kokomos coming home it'll be a bit. OH DUDE GUESS WHAT?!

So last night I'm all "buhhh, duhhh, fuhhh" and I get on msn. There's this one guy, you don't know him, he was struggling with chicks, off topic. BUT there was this hot, hot, hot german chick I almost dated in 9th grade (I did, actually, get a little...well we almost dated) but I was talking to her and wow, she got hot. She models now too. I'm bragging. Boner.