What am I doing?

My girlfriend will kick the shit out of you.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Hey Guys

Hi, I'm Justin, I'm in 3rd year Mechatronics and nothing else - just straight Tron. I didn't feel like a year of my life was worth a commerce degree. I'm a little high strung, as you can see. For those of you that have met me, you know I'm a little bit excitable, and for those of you that haven't met me... heheheh.

I like Tron because I theoretically get to build robots and stuff, but in reality I'm probably going to end up crying in an office somewhere in Nebraska. I have a friend who's doing that right now, his name is fish boy. That's not his real name, obviously, but he has this really big lips and eyes that make him look like an anime character invented by Stephen King. Don't let that discourage you.

I like playing guitar and running around excitably. Apparently, the last girl who was up here can't spell the word Galactica, so I'm going to go ahead and change that. I'm good at English too. I'm pretty much, like, the most bestest at it.

Turn to your left and turn to your right. People will tell you that one of those people will fail. That's negative thinking. Instead, look at those people again. I tell you that one of them will pass. Hey, I'm not going to stand up here and lie to you. I'm not even getting paid for this.

When I came to McMaster in my first year, I was freaked out and exhilarated at the same time. Think back to the last time you went skydiving, or bungee jumping, or you accidentally mixed cheese and chocolate and found it tasted awesome. It's slightly like that. Fortunately, I met a great group of friends who helped me settle in, and none of them looked like a fish.

The biggest way to enjoy your university experience is to get involved. It sounds cliche, I know, and I feel like I should be some big-name celebrity like... John Travolta? Is he still famous? Okay, good, I feel like I should be John Travolta saying this to you: "Participate!" Some of the best friends you'll make are in clubs where you share interests, or at events you both go to. I met my current girlfriend at the "Lonely singles who are so desperate they drink themselves into a stupor every night while looking for a date" club. Haha, no, that's a lie, I don't have a girlfriend, but I'm probably going to end up in a drunken stupor tonight anyways.

University can be tough. I'm not going to mince words - it does make you crazy. Sorry, I was just thinking about how rocks smell. They have no nose, you see? But university, while mind-breaking, is endurable, and eventually when you get your degree and end up working in McDonald's anyways, you'll be glad you did it.

Your prof is giving me a weird look. I think that means that maybe I should sit down soon.

All I have left to say is, you're stuck here for the next 4 years, give or take another 5, so you better make the best of it. Get out there. Explore. Adventure. Live. The university is an oyster, and you're fish boy. Go get that pearl.

Thanks a lot ladies and gentlemen. Live long and prosper, and may the Force be with you.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Maybe They're All Aliens?

It's the last day of my winter break, and I'm sitting in a bar with a couple of friends.

"I think I'll get a Blowjob," one of my friends says, referring to the alcoholic drink.

"You would, wouldn't you?" I quip. The girl next to me smacks me in the arm.

Another friend at the end of the table orders an Orgasm. I wonder if the bar makes an attraction around sex-based drinks. I furtively look for a Rusty Trombone, or a Dirty Sanchez. Nope. I settle for a pitcher of Rickard's Red, my preferred choice of beer.

We spend the next few minutes catching up. After months away at school, it's nice to see old friends again, and I've known most of them for almost 13 years. We reminisce about old times, bringing back waves of nostalgia. There was that time a classmate yelled "FUCK" really loud into a silent room, or the year where I had to dress up as a girl in our school's rendition of "A Midsummer Night's Dream." Good times.

"Excuse me," I interrupt, getting to my feet. I'm feeling slightly woozy. "But I drank too much liquid and now I need to piss."

My friend stands up. He's wobbling. "I'll come with you."

The girls start to laugh. I pause. "Hey, you ladies always go to the bathroom in pairs. Talk about double standards."

As we stagger off to the washrooms, the thought stays on my mind. Why do girls go to the bathroom in groups? Are they plotting the domination of men? Performing mystical rituals? Are they sharing makeup tips? Making out?

I shake my head. Maybe there are some secrets better left untold. I'm a guy anyways - I'll never figure it out, and I'm sure as hell not dressing like a girl again.

I pee and forget about it.

Friday, January 2, 2009

Downtown

It's New Year's Eve's Eve, and I'm far downtown with three close friends. It's biting cold, and the frosty wind evades coats and scarves, slipping freezing fingers down our backs. Instead of sitting by a cozy, warm fire, reading a engaging novel, I've been dragged out by three pathodemonic assholes whom I have the misfortune of loving to the point of icing my nads for. I may have misjudged my friends' capacity for torture.

The overcast sky is swiftly darkening by the time we reach downtown, and the crowds upon crowds of tourists, bored teenagers, homeless wanderers, religious zealots, and possibly illegal immigrants are beginning to disperse back to their homes, vents, and caves. I keep my eyes peeled for the odd straggler - from previous experiences, the ones that stay separate from the crowd have a reason to be, whether it's drugs, alcohol, or just plain rebelliousness. Any way you look at it, it's the lone wolves that are dangerous. Call me a paranoid maniac, but I call it like I see it.

Fortunately, no one jumps out of an alleyway to steal my lunch money. I take the time to glance up, at the clouded sky. Not much to see, especially on a winter's night. The thick blanket of clouds obscures the stars, and any possible invading alien ships. Even so, the streetlights would drown them out anyways. There are no stars in the big city. Worse, it starts to rain slightly, a slushy mix of snow and water drizzling down onto our heads. I put my hood up, but it only focuses the wind into my face, and I accidentally eat a few strands of hair. Blargh.

We pass by a homeless man sitting in a doorway, and I drop him a dollar. "Find a nice place to sleep tonight. It's cold." I have an affinity with the down-and-out, probably due to a mutual understanding of the craziness of the world. I already have a lot of ripped clothing and hand-me-downs in my closet, so if I ever decide to live the free life of garbage cans and pigeon catching, I'm already halfway there. My friends are jumping on flower planters and screaming at passerbys. I grin. I'm nearly 3/4 homeless with the company I keep - I have the insanity part down pat.

Standing at the corner, underneath a shop overhang, is a young man with a binder under his arm. He spots us passing by, and asks for a few minutes of our time. Making a quick decision, I take the initiative and stop, because I really do enjoy meeting random street people and hearing their stories. My friends don't look too pleased, but they aren't going to leave me (I hope), and stand in an awkward semicircle around the stranger. I realize we're blocking up half the sidewalk, but I can't be bothered to squish together, in case he has a knife or an alien chestburster ready to kill me. You can never be too careful.

He introduces himself as a member of Doctors Without Borders, and a PoliSci major. I suppose he's not going to try and bite my neck out, so I take a step closer. One of my friends teases him for being an artsie, but he takes it with a gracious laugh. He explains his situation, citing many numbers and statistics, the rising AIDS problem in Africa, and the work MSF does. It's all very interesting, especially the comments he makes about how the entrance exam consists of being bitten by rabid wolverines. I shuffle my feet, trying to keep warm, as he rattles off complicated facts about AIDS, Ebola, and other viruses that would make your skin crawl (or dissolve). The same friend segues into a discussion about mongooses, which he vehemently declares 'pussies'. He redeems himself by claiming albatrosses are 'terrifying' and that platypussies... platypusi... platypusses... more than one platypus are 'awesome'.

In the end, he asks us for a donation of 2 dollars a day. In response, all of us gape open-mouthed. We often don't have enough money to buy lunch every day. 2 dollars is a king's ransom to a student. Instead, we promise to spread the word, and volunteer our time. In my head, I am thinking OH NO THE AIDS WILL COME GET ME FOR NOT DONATING. As we walk away, I watch him stop another couple, and wonder how dedicated a person has to be to volunteer to stand outside in the freezing rain. I stop when I realize I've been walking in the rain for hours hanging out with my friends. I suppose we're both in similar boats.

Shops are closing up left and right, and all the stores I normally frequent are locked and barred. Looking around, I notice the streets slowly emptying. The nightlife awakens, and suddenly the streets are full of music from open bars, blares of screeching horns from cranky drivers, and tight-knit groups of users smoking in alleyways. I smile thoughtfully, and then look for my friends. They're molesting a metal statue off in the distance.

Screw it. I run to join them.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Happy New Year

I spent the New Year playing Smash Bros, watching 30 Days of Night, and reading Ender's Game. What a polymorph.

I also took my dog for a walk today and she headbutted me in the crotch really hard. According to GTCMNC, that's good luck... or bad... something.