Just finished filling out my FASFA (The deadline is today!)  I'm just glad that I did it on time and that I'm done with exams/midterms for atleast 2 weeks. Another thing I'm glad about is that the Winter Olympics are finally over.  I mean I don't hate the Olympics, its just that it took off one of my favorite shows Late Night with Conan O'Brien off the air for a couple of weeks.

But, I do enjoy watching the Olympics.  The Olympics are the greatest way for me to show support for those atheletes who have worked hard all of their lives by enduring grueling physical workouts, by watching them and eating Cheetos on my couch.

I am willing to admit that I am not in the best shape of my life, but I still enjoy cheering on the athletes. The only thing I don’t like to do is watch the events where the athletes are in such insanely good shape that I should be ashamed to live on the same planet as these people. Some of these events include Bobsleighing, figure skating, speed skating, Skiing, curling, carrying the Olympic torch, buying a coke from the concession stand, and opening the coke.

But, even though I didn't watch a lot of it, it was fun cheering on the athletes.

Okay, Good Night!  

It’s so Cold!

It is that time of the year when college students everywhere reflect on the semester past, think about what they have learned, look forward tot he Christmas season, and don’t sleep for 5 days straight as they cram for the classes they never went to.

I am one of those lucky college students, as I’m sure many of you are too. I have 4 finals and a large essay to write. But that really isn’t a problem… The problem is that its cold in my apartment. Heating costs money. And it costs a lot of money. Do you have any idea how fast US currency burns? I would need PILES of it to heat one room.

Turning on the heater costs money too. And if I can’t heat the apartment, this means I can’t write my paper. I mean, I could try, but it’s too cold. I can’t feel my fingers anymore. The best I can do is mash my fist on the keyboard for a while, hoping to form words.

That is only the first problem. I can only mash my fist on the keyboard if I can get out of my warm bed. Obviously I would get out of my warm bed, but the penguins have marked my desk as their nesting ground.

I am in quite the dilemma. It’s freezing in my apartment and we can't afford to pay for heating. This year my roommate is working on the theory that the hospitable bills for the Hypothermia will be cheaper than the gas bill.

What is the moral of today’s story? I guess it’s that if you’re going to move into an apartment, get roommates that are rich and are willing to pay the heating bill. And if you can’t do that, then don’t try to heat up the place by building a fire in your apartment. Apparently we don’t have a "fireplace" and the “smoke alarms will go off”… and those were your roommate’s "family photo’s".

But don’t worry. Most college students are going home from the Christmas season. Christmas time is the time of the year when college students from all over the world go home (separate homes, not the same one) to turn up the heater real high, walk around in shorts, take their parents for granted, and continually hear about "how lazy you are".

Instead, this Christmas season why not try to not take your parents for granted? Appreciate all that they do for you, how much they love you, and how they let you live under their central heated home. Walk right up to your parents and give them a big bear hug … And don’t let go, because that is precious body heat you’re wasting.

Well, I wish everyone good luck on finals. Unfortunately I have to go now. I need to finish writing my paper, and these penguins are getting pushy.

Muffy...your not a medium...your a small!

Recently I've been watching a lot of television. I found this one show that was quite disturbing called Dog Show Mom's and Dad's.

The people on this show are ridiculous. The main "couple" on the show is gay couple named Brandon and Ryan from Chicago. I have no problem with these gentlemen being gay, but on behalf of the rest of the world, it needs to be said that they are possible the two most annoying people ever placed on planet Earth. 

On the show Brandon and Ryan have a dog named "Liberace", and Chihuahua named "Daisy", which is currently under investigation for possibly actually being a rat. Brandon and Ryan love to talk about their dogs, then cry a lot. Everything makes Brandon cry, such as when Liberace does not win a dog show, or when his dog clothes do not fit, or when the camera is on. The whole thing is ridiculous.

So, I'm guessing that the member of your house who spends at least half it's day with it's head in the toilet does not care if they are wearing a Gucci sweater. So why are these people spending hundreds and thousands of dollars on dog clothes? That is why I think they should film the show on location around the world. To make it interesting. I think the first season should be called Dog Show: Ethiopia. It would go something like this.

Dog Owner: (crying) "I can't belive Muffy lost the dog show! (sob sob) Her tiny $5,000 dollar doggy thong tore before the swimsuit competition even started!"

Small Ethiopian Child: (walks up with eyes the size of basket-balls) "… I have no food."

Dog Owner: "Goodness Gracious! You're so skinny!… Do you think we could borrow your t-shit? It would fit perfectly on my Chihuahua."

So what I'm saying is that maybe Americans have their priorities a little wrong sometimes. Sure, there's nothing wrong with caring for your pet, but don't go overboard.

Man Up and Join the Girl Scouts

I might as well update this while I wait to go to work. I’ve noticed, as a guy, when you start to get older you begin to realize that you are turning into you’re father. I suppose this is a good thing, because turning into your mother would just be really embarrassing... I just don’t have the hips for it.

But it is true. All guys will someday turn into their fathers. Look at our very own President, George W. Bush. As George junior grew older he took over the same role as his father;  An idiot.

I noticed this change recently when I moved back home with my parents for the summer. My father is amazingly good at fixing things around the house.

But the similarity between my father and I has become glaringly obvious over the past few years. My dad likes to fix stuff and I seem to break them. See, I always wanted to be like my dad, and be able to fix lots of things, but I just seem to be able to make things worse. In all reality, I’m afraid the only thing that my dad and I really have in common is that we have the same style of clothes (whatever my mom buys us).

So one summer day my dad was working on fixing something on our roof. I quickly offered my helping hand, but my dad seems to know better now:

"Hey Dad!" I called out, "Do you need some help up there?"

"Uhhhhhh," My dad pretended to think, "No."

"You sure? Cause, you’re kind of hanging off the side of the roof."

Still remembering the time I may have let the couch drop on his foot (twice) my dad quickly responded "No! I’ll be OK!"

This is something I worry about because I lack in some of these basic "guy skill" areas. For example, my friend Chris bought a new car about 2 years ago. The minute that he came over to show my friends and I the car, we immediately dropped what we were doing to run outside and say the one sentence that men have said to each other since the beginning of time; "Pop the hood"

Nature dictates that guys say this. Even the early cave men would say this each other, but back then it only really involved picking up one big rock and revealing a bunch of more rocks. This actually made a lot more sense to me than looking under a car hood.

See, my friends and I do actually know a few things about cars, but for the most part we just know enough to sound like we do. That way, my friends and I figure, we have an excuse to stare at the girls who stand next to cars in car magazines. The same thing happens when ever a group of guys lift up the hood of a new car; Each one of us stands around scratching body parts (our own, not each others) while making grunting noises and throwing out sentences that we had no idea of the meaning of, such as: "What kind of horse power you got in there?" "Is this were the window washer fluid goes?" and "Where is the flux capacitor?"

Another guy skill that I want is to have is too walk into any hardware store in the world and know, purely by instinct, exactly were everything is. No guy actually has this skill, but I want the version of the skill that my dad has. It’s called "faking it". The skill of "faking it" involves telling the kids to be quiet while walking around for about an hour saying "Yes I know where it is!" and hoping you walk smack into it. Guys can’t ASK for help in one a place like Lowes, because as I guy you feel that you should know where everything is. Men feel like idiots asking one of the hardware workers. The hardware guys always say they would love to help you, but you know that the whole time they are actually just thinking about how hard of a wedgie they could give you right now.

For example, my dad told me to go get him some nails and washers, so I went inside the store and asked for help:

"Excuse me. Could you tell me where I could find nails and washers?" I ask one of the workers who resembles every guy that stuck my head in the toilet in grade school...and junior high… and high school.

"Sure!" These guys always say very nicely. "Nails are down on you’re left hand side of aisle 13, right past the paint section. They’re right buy ‘Tiny Manhood’ and ‘Throws like a girl’. You can’t miss it!"

"Uh... thanks." I say... Unless my head is already jammed in the toilet.

Most of the time I can get through the experience though. I figure, ‘Hey, that guy works here. I’m no less of a man just because I asked where they keep the nails!’ It is when I walk up to the front counter and some 16 year old girl at the register tells me that I’m using the wrong nails that’s when I decide, yes, I am less of a man.

The irony in all this is I am now working at Lowes. And I’m still getting the same treatment.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is that my dad is a pretty cool guy and I wouldn’t mind turning out like him. Sure, my mom is amazing too, but I am not about to walk around in high heels ever again…uhh… I mean, ever at all.

Well, I have to go to work now, hopefully I won’t get my head jammed in the toilet today.

The Return to Long Beach: The Next Generation.

Well, here I am I have returned to Long Beach California (or, the “LBC” if you happen to reading this Snoop Dogg).  Summer is pretty much over and classes have started or what I like to call “Dead man walking”.

For the first time in my life, I am living on my own, in my own apartment. Yup, it is nothing but fast women, fast money, and fast food... And by that I do mean "Roommates asking for money, no money, and fast food”.

I was pretty convinced when I moved into my own apartment things in my life wouldn't change that much. Then, as I lay weak of hunger on my empty kitchen floor 2 days after moving in, I realized that I probably would have died somewhere in the last 20 years had it not been for my mother.

 ... I had a lot of time to think about it as the ambulance rushed me to Home Town Buffet.

So, I cleaned up my act real fast after I moved in here. Yesterday I cooked dinner, cleaned the bathroom, the dishes and organized some stuff.

So, I guess I'll make it through. Its weird getting used to living out on your own, and I live on the standard budget of a college student (-$0.50). So feel free to come by. I welcome any visitors; Friends, family, even burglars are welcome. I figure the worst a burglar could do at this point is steal the mounting pile of trash and boxes in our apartment.

... Rob me, I dare you.