My Left Nut

In addition to the usual shooting pains in my quadriceps, my left testicle has been hurting all day. Long term readers know that the safety and comfort of my baby makers is of vital importance to me, so, yes, I’m terribly worried. I gots to makes me some babies. BABIES!

I had a midterm in diffEQ today, and it boiled a little bit of the brain that I had stored up over the week, so you all have to suffer through crappy blog posts.

BABIES!

That Kanye West song in the Jarhead commercial (Jesus Walks) is pretty sweet.

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Kernel Panic

This server is seemingly getting less stable. I don’t have time for elaborate forensic analysis, so I’m kind of tempted to just turn it off and save it from further fscking.

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Day of the Dead

I think that the problem was that I didn’t have any Sugar Skulls, or the La Muerte Loteria card. I don’t know how I became so superstitious when I absolutely do not believe in the supernatural, but whatever.

My car got towed and my server was down again for a long time today. I was racking my brain to figure out some sort of karmic damage that I had done. Maybe I racked up bad karma just by getting drunk and not being ashamed.

Sana, sana, colita de rana, si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana.

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Something fishy

There’s something wrong with my server or someone is attacking it in the wee hours. I’m terribly sorry about the service interruptions. Maybe if I switched to Windows it would be more stable! HA ha! HA! Sigh. My server has fsck’ed itself three times since Sunday. Even my server is getting more action than me!

Okay, really I’m just jealous that Melissa is dating again and has found someone “very sweet and nice.” I’m not so much jealous of someone kissing her as much as I want to be the one kissing boys. GIRLS! I want to kiss GIRLS! I’m glad that she seems happy, she deserves the best.

Paul walks down the street and women fly out of their houses towards him. He sits in class and panties fly across the room to stick to him. I think it’s the hat. He has a magnet in it. I should get a magnet. And a hat.

I shouldn’t write anything before my brain comes online. Sorry about that.

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This isn’t fucking New York

I was riding my bike home on Johnson today and pulled up to the red light at Broadway. It had been a really nice ride. The weather was good. I was riding with a good cadence. My legs weren’t burning up. Then the guy in the minivan right next to me hollered out his open window:
“Get a fucking car!”

I wasn’t sure what he had said but I heard something about a car so I looked at his van and the cars behind him to see if I was blocking anyone from turning right. Everything was copacetic, so I hollered back.

“What?”

“Get a fucking car! This isn’t fucking New York!” he yelled. He hunched down in his seat to see me. He looked about sixty and had those terrifyingly ugly glasses that people from the suburbs always seem to wear. His beige Ford Astrovan sagged as he leaned toward me.

“A car would be a lot cheaper than the medical bills after somebody fucking hits you!”

“I have a car, I’m just riding my bike,” I answered, incredulous that a random person would be angrily cussing me out for riding a bicycle. I obey traffic laws, signal my turns, have adequate lighting, and am generally the least annoying rider on the road. I don’t even wear any fussy spandex or throw my head back haughtily while spraying water into my mouth. I just ride from home to school and back again. Four miles each way for exercise and fun. I don’t preach to anyone about riding versus driving or whether or not I think that oil is gonna run out ever. I’m the least confrontational person that I know.

“What you gonna do in fucking January?” he taunted. I still tried to answer as though it were a rational conversation, and not some random asshole screaming nonsense at me during a freakishly long red light.

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll switch?” I offered.

“Damn right you will!” he gloated, dropping back into his seat. The light changed. He drove away.

I don’t think that I’ve been in anything close to a fight in thirteen years. I have spent a lot of time learning to always keep a cool and level head. I can talk people down from anything. It’s amazing. No fights ever. Right then all I wanted to do was pull that guy out of his van and just beat the living shit out of him. I could picture my gloved fist colliding with the bony ridge above his eye. I’ve never actually punched anyone.

The rest of my bike ride was cool and quiet. Swarms of children clamored for treats, but they seemed distant in the dark. I didn’t notice the climb up Johnson at Lowry. I didn’t get tired the rest of the way. Adrenaline is apparently awesome.

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Pancakes

On Sunday, while I was wearing her shoes, Cake Woman bought me eggs, bacon, pancakes, hash browns, toast, and pancakes. I also ate the last of her omelet and a small child. Needless to say, I was stuffed.

“I am larger because of your largesse,” I said, enjoying the mild play on words.
“What? Are you calling me fat?”

This is why most of the time I only use words that my electrician uncle would get.

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Bowling

I am a terrible bowler. Cake Woman and I have the same size of feet. We produced a foul series of jokes about balls. I’m going to bed.

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Happy Halloween!

This is what I remember from Saturday night.

Lisa was a vampire cow.

Stan had a duct tape based costume and was a martian type person.

Cake Woman had a wondrous cape and a big cock:

Accusations have been flying around that I got terribly drunk and caused a scene. For the record, I did not get terribly drunk, I got wonderfully drunk and I rule at foosball.

“You need to drink some water, Jesse”
“If I drink water, can I have more beer?”
“Yes, fine”
“Okay.”

Then I drank a liter of water in one long pull. A lot of it went on my shirt, I think.

“Give me more beer.”

later, I was shoeless in Anoka

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Where Are My Shoes?

I woke up in Anoka this morning and my shoes were nowhere to be found.

I’m going bowling.

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Party

Now!

Don’t make me drink all this fucknig beer by myself. I’ll do it!

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