Just as I’ve really been able to settle into a nice routine of working out, sleeping sensibly, doing boring work while affording myself a lot of time for brogging or other personal writing endeavors, all while getting paid well, slightly seeing a little bit of financial breathing room, and dealing with a 30-mile commute that believe it or not, doesn’t suck . . . I find out today that tomorrow’s my last day, barring an apocalypse of work that would warrant needing me to stay longer.
Month: February 2011
Photos: The Fries Challenge From Hell Experience
The beginnings and endings of the Fries challenge from hell. It started off well, but went to hell real fast, with the impending doom of the fries constantly awaiting in the wings. By the time I gave up, the hardened, dried cheese resembled the alien symbiote that eventually became Venom and Carnage, instead of gooey cheese on the fries.
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The Fries Challenge . . . from hell
It was supposed to be a burger challenge.
your choice of 4 of our 10 burgers, piled high with toppings and served with an enormous pile of cheese fries.
The fact that the word “enormous” was not defined, is the deadliest aspect of this challenge. The fact that the word “enormous” was not defined, is exactly why this thing shouldn’t really even be called a burger challenge.
It should be “Loaded French Fries challenge with a side of Hamburgers“
Needless to say, I failed quite horribly, although not nearly as bad Huzzard did. I consumed roughly three and 3/5 of the four hamburgers, and I didn’t put a noticeable dent in the estimated eight potatoes worth of loaded cheese fries that “were thrown in” to the challenge.
I felt that I was making good time, and if the limits of my body were greater than what I had already exhibited, I know I could have finished it. But the mountain of fries always being in sight proved to be adversity that clouded my mind with doubt and uncertainty, which ultimately led to my inevitable defeat. I’m seriously beginning to wonder if I’ll ever defeat any of the food challenges that I always seem to think I’m capable of toppling when I see them.
Just some facts
I am at my parents’ house right now.
My parents are not home.
They are in Costa Rica.
My parents changed the locks on the house.
I had to go to my aunt in order to get a spare key to get in.
I did not know of any of this until about just before I was about to make my trip up to Virginia. And as funny as all this sounds, it really truly is just coincidence, but it’s a funnier story to explain it as such. Oh, I get along great with my parents, but they changed the locks on their house and went to Costa Rica.
Oh well. At least I’m comfortably in my old bed, in my old, pitch-black closet of a bedroom, even if it’s a completely empty house.
Tomorrow, or rather, well later today, I will embark on a burger challenge that I do not wish to incur failure. Photos will probably end up here soon afterward.
What really happens to children during a zombie apocalypse
What, you thought they were all safe and comfy at Disneyland while Chris, Jill, Francis, Coach, Ellis and Zoey eradicated the zombies for the sake of humanity?
It’s kind of a no-brainer that kids were never really shown in any danger in zombie games, because of the perceived sensitive nature of such imagery, but take such factors out of play, and it’s assumed that since they’re dumb and frail, they’re simply the first to get wiped out.
Major props to the trailer for Dead Island, which unforgivingly puts together this fine trailer of horror, sadness, and raw defeated emotion, which has more or less sold me on the game, without me really knowing what it’s truly about, the mechanics, or anything else. And based on what little I have read about it, Dead Island sounds like the perfect one-player game for me to play when not indulging in zbs.
Creepiest guy ever at trivia
Assist goes to Miss Emma, firstly. But seriously, this guy was the creeper of all creeps. Hitting on a 4/10 Japanese girl at the bar, head all tilted weird and contorted. Drinking Yuengling out of a fucking goblet, and eating cheese fries like a six-year old eating spaghetti, allowing it to hang out of his mouth before sloppily snaring it in. But mostly the tilted head, and the “I’m so hot and I know you want to do me” attitude that might not be conveyed as well through photograph. Sadly, because of the quality that he’s so engrossing himself with, he may actually get lucky, but otherwise, the hipster hoodie, ironic t-shirt, messy hair, jew nose, and beady drunk eyes simply anoint this young man, as the creepiest guy ever at trivia.
BHM query: Why the aversion to using turn signals?
After the first few queries, a tiny part of me kind of felt guilty, a little remorseful that I was making posts like these. Slightly reluctant to buy into the popular notion that I’m not so much of a critical individual not afraid to speak about the taboo topic of racial stereotypes, but just a straight up racist (which I vehemently deny, since that would mean I hate 100% of a particular demographic which is genuinely false).
But all that guilt was quickly washed away this morning, when my leisurely drive into work today was soured by an impatient, militant pitbull of a black woman who decided to lay down on the horn of her car because I couldn’t read minds. Which brings me to the latest query in honor of Black History Month:
What in history led to the modern day aversion that black people have with utilizing turn signals?
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