Zombies ate my brain

5:32AM - Holy Henious Habbakuk

Sooooo....Sittin' here at work talking about web journals...or BLOGS as some of you freaks call them...when I suddenly remember that I too have one of these "things". So anyway my dearest audience (if any of you still check this page) I have a few tales for you. Numero uno! I went to the UK and Ireland...got drunk...got engaged(FECK!)...flew back and actually passed my first semester of nursing school. Fast forward a little bit, and I'm glad to report that Mel and I put an assload of money down at the Smithville Inn for our wedding. The date is set for June 23rd, 2007...of course unless Melissa kills me first. Oh yea...I quit Burdeath (HOORAY!!) and now I am employed at ARMC much closer to home (HOORAY!!). I think there is some poo for me to clean so.......until next time.......maybe!

7:05PM - Scatology

Years ago, while coming down after a night of pretty hard partying, some friends and I got into a lengthy discussion of a fecal nature. It was the kind of stream of consciousness discussion that can only occur between close friends late at night and while under the influence of a variety of chemicals. During this conversation we began to classify the different types of rectal remnants we have encountered in our lives.

We initially decided that there are essentially only two phyla in the fecal kingdom: Firm Turds (Turdabrates) and Diarrhea (Inturdabrates); and that all turds should subsequently fall into one of these two categories. Unfortunately, this simple dichotomy between Firm and Diarrhea is not adequate to encompass all fecal forms. Some poops have characteristics that do not fit neatly into either phylum.

The argument was made that a turd could transition from firm to diarrhea while being released into the wild. After much deliberation, it was proposed that this somewhat common occurrence is actually the simultaneous arrival of two different turds at the exit ring at the same time. This theory did have merit, but it was finally agreed upon that a crap is defined as an event as well as the result left in the bowl afterward. Therefore all material released from the ol' corn chute during a particular bowel movement is indeed a single unique beast and must be categorized as such. Thus the third fecal phylum -- Logarrhea -- was created, to encompass all shits that are simultaneously both solid and liquid.

After we agreed upon the three phyla of poop, the conversation evolved into a discussion of all the different crap types that members of the group had encountered. The varieties seemed endless:

* The Peanut Butter Shit, seemingly impossible to wipe, and quite possibly the messiest of all craps, due to its sticky nature.

* The Bunny Balls, actually a group of Milk Dud-sized poops (or a "Steam" of poops, as a group of shits are properly referred to as a collective).

* The Unexplained Green Goblin, an otherwise-normal log with the exception of its emerald green coloration, often occurring when nothing green was consumed in the days prior to its release.

Once the group had discussed the more common, day-to-day turds, the conversation swayed to the more rare and uncommon shits that had been encountered by members of the group. The ever popular and somewhat rare no-wipe-required turd, or Smoothie, as it came to be called, was brought up. This turd is always a pleasure, but it can only be identified positively first by wiping, and then, after finding no brown evidence on the meat whistle, wiping again to verify that the wipe was indeed thorough and not merely misplaced.

After discussing the Smoothie and its obviously fine traits, the Phantom was brought up -- a truly rare turd that can only be speculated upon, as it is, by its very nature, impossible to inspect. The phantom is a turd that, due to either its velocity, its specific gravity, its unique hydrodynamic properties, or quite possibly all three, manages to make its way out of the asshole and into the toilet basin whereupon it then negotiates a 135-degree turn and propels itself down the toilet with no flush required.

And then the question was posed: "What is the rarest of all turds?" It was finally determined that the rarest of all is a combo poop -- the Phantom Smoothie, a unique union of Phantom and Smoothie varieties of turds. The most rare and certainly most elusive of all the shits that one may take, it steals away like a thief in the night, leaving neither in the toilet nor on the toilet paper no evidence that it ever existed. A very enigmatic shit, and one that almost assuredly is accompanied by a sense of pride at having created it. The Germans were allegedly conducting experiments with geist-rückstände, or "ghost-feces," during WWII, as a way of saving water and toilet paper; but their success was minimal outside of the laboratory. So the Phantom Smoothie will surely go down in the annals of history as the rarest of all shits.

8:14PM - Represent East Coast

I saw this on Jarel's blog, so I decided to put this up on my site. Apparently, Jarel has seen a great deal more of the US of A. I refuse to travel into the deep south and the west as the ratio of zombies to red blooded Americans is as much as 1:20. I have managed, with the aid of experienced undead hunters, to keep the zombie population under control on the eastern seaboard. I believe that inbreeding in the central US and deep south has lead to the actual birthing of undead zombie babies due to a mutation in the red neck DNA. As a note to the traveller....stay away from these areas. Take special care by trailer parks as they seem to possess the perfect conditions for zombie replication....peece and good hunting.



create your own visited states map
or check out these Google Hacks.

6:14PM - Henious Heretical Hebrews

Well it has alomst been 2 months since my last post. Needless to say, 4 days of nursing school lecture/clinical and then 3 days of work equals absolutely NO time to type on LJ. Oh how I miss my drunken rants. Soon there will be time, and perhaps when I am in Europe with Melissa, Herr Fidalgo, Senor Wentz I will update LJ at hostels with internet capabilities. Speaking of J-Wiggly, I just found out today that he will already be in Europe when the former 2 and I are travelling abroad. We plan to meet up in Dublin for New Years, and I expect that it will be most clutch. Oh, and I suppose I should mention that the city of Wildwood produced 3 gunshot victims that I recently had the honor of treating. They stumbled into the front door in an attempt to avoid police interventions. Apparently a drug deal in Wildwood went bad....imagine that. I asked them if they were Yankee fans, to which they affirmed they were, and summarily informed them that I am a Boston fan and that they had to get out. No shit, and they thought I was kidding....silly bastards. So with out further adieu I present to you a few haikus I wrote for Duc's site. I was too lazy to cut and paste them so I just copied everything....deal fuckers....enjoy

Unionize!
Chickens form unions
To protect farm fowl labor
From corporate cows
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-09
Rating: 3.82 | 22 votes

Don't Do Drugs in Church
Timmy sees his God
Climb off of the cross in church
Black tar delusions
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-09
Rating: 3.95 | 22 votes


Red Bunnies
Bunnies share cabbage
For collectivization
Of their sylvan farms
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-09
Rating: 3.96 | 24 votes

Kulak Critters
Squirrel hoardes the nuts
An unsharing kulak beast
Sent to the gulag
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-09
Rating: 3.93 | 26 votes


Clown Wiggg
Clown wig in the snow
Shivering in the prostate
Orgasmic blizzard
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-09
Rating: 3.96 | 19 votes

Ben Loves Scat
Shitting on toilets
Is not Fidalgoian
One must eat the scat
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-09
Rating: 3.48 | 21 votes


Forest Cults
Baby bunnies bounce
To the drum of divine lust
Thirsting for hot blood
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-09
Rating: 3.91 | 23 votes

Food for Thought
Dead babies fester
In 55 gallon drums
To feed their masters
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-09
Rating: 4.00 | 22 votes


Where's Daddy
Mommy where is Dad
Or were you just a cockslut
Fucking men for change
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-09
Rating: 3.71 | 20 votes

Bob Sagget and the White Pony
Sucking dick for coke
A prostitutes holiday
Swallowing for blow
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-09
Rating: 3.82 | 21 votes


Late Night with Ben
Ben drops a fat deuce
And snares it out of the bowl
For a midnight snack
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-09
Rating: 3.38 | 22 votes

Anal Nitrate
Anal nitrate makes
Tight assholes open up wide
For deep dick action
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-09
Rating: 3.49 | 27 votes


Ducites
Duc pilfers the souls
Of innocent Mexicans
Fuels his war machine
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-10
Rating: 3.94 | 18 votes

Duc = Evil
Duc loathes Benite sects
A religious hate monger
Against Perfection
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-10
Rating: 4.00 | 20 votes


Wigwam Drama
Sock puppet drama
Incestuous matricide
A wigam epic
Posted by T-Bag on 2003-04-11
Rating: 3.94 | 19 votes

5:50PM - Homage to the Shocker

In May of 2000, it was reported in the local paper that thirty-four students who had attended Hanover High School in Pennsylvania had had their pictures taken for the school yearbook giving an obscene gesture. The principal, John P. Cokefair, had sent a letter to the thirty-four students' parents explaining that because of the preponderance of this gesture in the photos, the offending photos would be re-taken, without the gesturing students, and these students would bear the cost of the re-shoot.

Additionally, the students were to recieve community service for a day, and seniors who did not show up would be denied their diplomas, while truant underclassmen would be given a three-day suspension.

An outsider who hears this story naturally asks the same question: How were thirty-four students able to give the finger and not get caught until it was necessary to replace the photos?

Therein lies the interesting fact of this event; the gesture in question was not the middle finger, but a gesture known in certain circles as "the shocker". Principal Cokefair explained in his letter that the reference was "so horrific" that some students could not even speak of it. His letter explained, "perhaps your child will elaborate when you have a talk about this matter."

In fact, the photos had been taken throughout the year, but were undetected as anything meaningful until some team photos were brought to the attention of the administration by a faculty member in the athletic department. Once the meaning was known, the yearbook had become a minefield of obscenity and deplorable references; the Principal had felt he must act.

It would be best at this juncture to assist the unknowing (feel no embarassment) as to the formation and reference of "the shocker". Let's start with your outstretched hand, palm up. Take your ring finger (next to the pinky) and touch it to your thumb. It is as if you're making an "OK" symbol with the wrong finger. Now, flatten your finger and thumb a bit, while your first, second and pinky fingers remain straight up. Rotate your hand a little, so your straightened fingers are pointing somewhat sideways.

Congratulations, you are now making "The Shocker".

It is a gesture meant to indicate a sexual act, wherein the first and second fingers enter a vagina, while the errant pinky plunges into the anus; hence the "shock". The gesture, the province of minds quite filthy in nature, has taken on other, more explicit names: "Two in the pink and one in the stink", "two in the coot and one in the boot", "going to town with one in the brown". Yes, quite rude, quite crude... but a minimal impact, considering its relative obscurity and difficult explanation. You can imagine Cokefair's eyes tearing up with anger as he flipped through the photographs; smiling faces, blushing with youth and vitality, innocently holding up a signal representing digital sodomy and sexual manipulation. The despair in the room, the struggle to decide what to do, must have been palpable.

For their own part, students claimed several defenses to the local press; that some didn't know what the meaning of the gesture was (quite likely), that it had been done in previous yearbooks with no punishment (and it had), and that the punishment was, after all, inherently cruel.

A parents' meeting was quickly announced by the school board for the following tuesday, allowing the parents to vent their anger or sound their agreement with the chosen punishment.

One hundred parents and students showed up. One hundred! The tone was obvious, the intent soon laid out: removal of the photos was not the answer. This tone found a voice in one Kate Klunk, the lone student representative on the school board. That night had been bittersweet for her; while this debate raged on, she had also been awarded a certificate for two years of service on the board. But she saw through the fog of anger and spoke. And her words held weight and meaning.

"The yearbook is designed as a documentary, memorial or historical book," she said. "No person or persons" should be permitted to remove photographs; it was tantamount, she said, to removing mentions of slavery from history books because "it makes America look bad."

Why not simply airbrush out the gestures themselves, a cost which the offenders could bear, and which could be done without sacrificing the many photographs that had been taken? Ms. Klunk concluded with her brilliant offered comprimise and gave back the floor.

Then rose Steve Sheppard. A parent and self-described "representative of the parent community", he proceeded to read Cokefair's letter to the attendees of the room, because not all had had the opportunity to read it. He dismissed the idea that the children were "innocent babes", but questioned why their silly joke must cause such revisionism in the yearbook. He refuted the idea of making the students drive back from Senior Week to do community service, questioning the safety of such a request. He pointed out that the plan as stated by the Cokefair letter was that not only would the students be not allowed in the re-taken photographs, but their names would cease to appear next to them, even under a "missing" header. In other words, as he put it, the school district would "destroy a piece of our history".

Sheppard's speech was interspersed with applause at several points, and upon conclusion he was given a standing ovation.

No doubt, Cokefair saw the writing on the wall as the applause faded.

By June, the board had spoken. The students were not to be given community service, and the photos would not be replaced (although in some cases new photographs had been taken in anticipation). Instead, Klunk's suggestion ruled the day: the students' obscene gestures would be airbrushed from the photos, artistic siphoning of the horrifying incident. The students would also recieve six hours of after-school detention.

What happened next is, like all back-room intrigue, up to interpretation. Fingers were pointed, accusations made, numerous angry calls and conferences between the administrators of the school. To the outside world, and even the parents, things seemed to die down.

Until July.

His authority questioned, his declarations anulled, and his good name now inextricably linked with this digital obscenity, John Cokefair did what any self-respecting man would do. He resigned.

In the heat of the Hanover summer, Cokefair submitted a letter to school district authorities and officials, citing the Shocker incident, and the ensuing fiasco, as reason enough to seek employment elsewhere. Cry not for him, for he found solace and waiting arms in his previous employer, the Williamsport High School, three restful hours away. His pay would be nearly the same, although he would be one of several co-principals, no longer the single lord and renovating spirit he had been at Hanover. No doubt, this was a tough sword to self-administer at age 50, a time when your days should be spent walking the hallways, assisting the problem students, disciplining the bad eggs, making the inspiring speeches at pep rallies.

And as for whether he was jumped or pushed, Cokefair claimed he had been given a gag order (an accusation which the school board denied) and refused to discuss details other than to intimate to the local paper about the event: "That probably was the most shining example of the lack of respect I was receiving....it was a crowning star and I sincerely hope that Dr. Bortner (the new superintendent Michele Bortner) is able to convince the board to respect their principals."

Even now, in this future age, when the events have settled into history and the decisions and battles are now trapped in the amber of lore, it is best to realize how even the littlest fights can erupt into life-changing battles, with collateral damage to careers and reputations, driving men and their families from a community, never to return.

Surely, that is the greatest "shocker" of all.

Various terms for the proverbial "Shocker": two in the junk, one in the trunk; two in the snapper, one in the crapper; two in the crack whore, one in the backdoor; two in the bank, one in the stank; two in the soup, one in the poop; two in the hair pie, one in the brown eye; two in the clam, one in the ham. live long and shock-her.

7:48PM - Heroin.....Hooooray!

Your Ultimate One Night Stand... by crispnite
LJ Username
Favorite animal
You invite over...
They bring...
You talk about...
You end up...	giving them the shocker
Quiz created with MemeGen!

Now I ask you does it get any better? Hitting that, bootin' some horse, talkin about 'gine, and then giving her the shocker!

9:38PM - 80's Movies

Well it has been along time since I posted. Let me explain myself before I am crucified (as if anyone REALLY cares when I bloody update this thing muahaha). I went out to Ohio with Melissa, CB, and Cheung. That resulted in me getting absolutely faced on guinness and Tulley...Mmmmmm. We enjoyed ourseleves for the 3 days we were out there, and Tal got us addicted to www.neopets.com. Here we are in our 20s playing what is considered a children's game...don't knock it until you try it...it's virtual heroin. On the way home CB got us lost in Kensington, Philadelphia. For those of you not in the know, Kensington is the ghetto of ghettos in North Philly. For christ's sake we saw a dude break into a car. It wasn't long until CB blew through a stop light to escape the quite horrific scene. I eventually got home alive and went to sleep for a few hours before work. Of course, work was pure hell. Unfortunately, we were staffed for the winter, but we still had summer volume. The hoardes of undead zombies beating at our doors could not be held back due to improper staffing. I barely escaped with my life on the fourth day, and left Cape May County to be overrun by the army of the dead. On a lighter not I started nursing school yesterday. That was exciting, and I will be doing my clinical work this semester at good ol' BTMH. In order for me to study there I suppose I will need to assemble a strike force of elite zombie hunters to clear and contain the hospital.....Hmmmm any volunteers? Oh here take this test...and be excellent to each other.

What 80`s movie are you? Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

8:44AM - The Irish Curse

As one may or may not have noted in Ben's journal, I have not posted due to the influence of adult alcoholic beverages on my mind. I had nine days off from work, and I have not found the time to post...ahh blame the brew. What Ben did not post about, however, is his last day in NJ. I was at the last Face to Face concert in Philly (a shame it was there last as they have been a staple of the punk scene for 12 years) when Jared left a message on my phone about going for 3 for $1 beer night at Gregory's. I consulted Mindy and Melissa about the prospects of getting faced back home for dirt cheap, rather than suck down $5 beers in a sweathouse full of stinking punks. They hastily agreed and after the concert we bolted down to God's Own Country (South Jersey). My entourage rendevoued with Mr. Fidalgo and party at Gregory's around 1230 after we picked up wicked Keely. We walked in and I was saddened to see that the 3 for $1 beers were 8oz glasses, but I soon realized that the deal was still amazing....drinking ensued full throtle. Our thirst quenched, Jared and I were engrossed with women's olympic beach volley-ball when a gaggle of obviously underage girls descended upon the bar. Our waitress demanded to see all of the preteen prostitot ID. The bouncers checked every ID with excruiciating detail, but could not find a flaw with their IDs. I knew that my speculations about their age were correct when I noticed that they all ordered either A) Strawberry Daquri B) Smirnoff Ice or C) vodka and cranberry. Keely came back from the bathroom at one point and let us know that one of the wee whores was vomiting on herself like a swine. The whole scene was rather hilarious as we watched the teenage drama unfold across the bar. I just feel bad for the suckers across the bar hitting on these jail bait sluts. 15'll get ya 20 muahahaha. Well I can barely see straight so I am going to fall into my bed now....sorry for the mess of this post, but I am very sleep depraved....not clutch

2:50PM - Chicken Fried Chicken

Since my last post the dog has been at a surgery center in Tinton Falls, NJ. Pre-op blood work revealed that Sadie has pancreatitis. For the medical savvy, yes this is a condition that plagues alcoholics around the globe, you may be asking yourself how a dog has acquired this condition. First off, no I do not give Sadie booze, but know that schnauzers are susceptible to the disease. This condition needed to be addressed before surgery was performed, so the dog underwent IV therapy (plasma and antibiotic infusions). Pretty crazy stuff, but everything panned out and the surgery for her stones was performed. As a matter of fact, my sister and mother are on their way to procure the wee lass. I am rather curious to find out the cost of such a vet hospital stay. Completely unrelated...do not go and see Alien v Predator. It was quite disappointing, considering we have all been waiting since 1995 to see this battle. I won't release any details on the film, as one should be encouraged to make their own decisions about the movie. I tell you, in my own humble opinion, it was garbage.

9:35AM - DooM ]|[, Dangerous Creatures of the Sea, and Canine Complications

If you bothered to pay any attention to the aforementioned title to this post, you have realized that it will assuredly be an interesting read. So let's take care of DooM ]|[ first. It is, thank the maker, an amazing game to my great elation. I was truly worried that the modern gaming industry had lost it's vision on what constitutes a good game. Akin to Hollywood, the video game industry has consistently focused on special effects (ie. graphics), and has paid very little attention to content, story, replayability...yada yada yada. DooM had succeeded putting me on edge (ok maybe even scared me a wee bit), more than any horror flick I have seen in recent history. The atmosphere is so masterfully crafted by iD that you actually feel immersed in the game...Hell you jump out of your seat and look behind you. So, in other words, buy the friggin' game...upgrade if you must because it's amazing. Secondly, in reference to dangerous sea creatures, I just came home from surfing after work at 100th St. in Stone Harbor. Pretty decent morning, except while turning around after riding a wave in I spot a "sea creature with a dorsal fin" in a wave. Now if it were a dolphin, a perfectly safe and friendly denizen of the brine, it would have bobbed about with the rest of the pod. This was a solitary animal, and a bit shorter that the common dolphin. It appeared to be trashing about when we were all staring at it, and considering Bob just gashed his side open (and bleeding actively might I add), so we hiked up our boarded and called it a day. So on as an educated guess I must say that the creature was some sort of shark. I just wish I could surf with a harpoon...that would be amazing. On a more upsetting note, however, Sadie, our beloved miniature schnauzer, has apparently developed quite a few kidney stones. She has one obstructed ureter (tube leading from the kidney to the bladder) about 4mm in diameter, and a mass of stones in her bladder about 10mm in diameter....friggin huge. So basically the dog needs surgery (she hasn't eaten in 2 days), and no vet will take her. I tried calling Emily, who works at a vet hospital, but I couldn't get a hold of her. The natural plan of action was to call Doyle who can track down anyone in the continental United States within 5 minutes...which he did. The kid called me back with a number to where he was not sure, but assured me that Emily would be on the other end...which she was. I have told her my quandary and just scored an appointment. No sleep for me...I will update when I awaken.

2:15PM - DooM ][

Having slaved away at work for another long winded stretch of days, I went to NYC with Doyle. While I would love to say it was as amazing as my first post, I'd be lying. We did, however, drink England into oblivion. Bloody wankers...Doyle did manage to vomit in Jared's bathroom, but nothing is quite so classic as doing it on the Path train. While we are talking about classics, I have managed to procure a copy of DooM ][ and an assortment of old WADS we used to play way back in '94. Scott came over and we got the network mode working...even played a little thelord.wad, an ol' time classic megawad. I have to admit after 10 years (can you believe 10 years!!) the sight of your shotgun ripping through a imp is grotesquely satisfying. The game has lost none of it's luster, and I find myself playing through the original DooM ][ levels one more time. I am a firm believer that games, when they get too fancy, lose sight of their true aim of entertainment, and end up being a very pretty, but ultimately boring game. Now I sincerely hope that DooM ]|[ doesn't follow this trend. I have already pre-ordered the game and I anxiously await the ship date tomorrow. Ten years seems so long to be without another DooM...let us hope that iD delivers one more time. Those interested in getting together for a giant DooM ][ old school network deathmatch let me know. It should be an amazing time considering that we only played one other person at a time on our 14.4bps modems, effectively tying up our parent's phone lines for hours on end....ah the sweet memories. Never forget....DooM trains us for the zombie infestation to come

7:53PM - Anemic Apathy

I returned to work yesterday for the first time in seven days. While this was not a scheduled vacation, it is the benefit of working 13 hour shifts. If one was to work 5-6 days in a row, an arduous task in the summer believe me, you can occasionally luck out and have many sequential days off using absolutely no personal time. I wasted most of my time off attempting to surf on assorted South Jersey beaches. I shouldn't really say it was time wasted, as I have improved greatly since I took up the moniker of surfer in June. I can actually ride a wave for about 10 seconds, which may not sound like much of an accomplishment, but for a novice such as myself it is a miracle. So after spending a week on the beach, and perhaps a little time staring at the suds at the bottom of an empty mug of beer, it is easy to understand why I had no desire to return to my place of employment. I arrived at work yesterday and immediately signed myself up for the fast track area, the "treat 'em and street 'em" portion of the emergency room, for I had no desire to administer care for people with psychosomatic malaise. My night was rather uneventful in good old FT, but apparently there was a hoarde of vacationers (and a few locals) that were in the acute area suffering from an assortment of certifiable illnesses. I found myself A) not feeling sorry for them B) not caring if they were wallowing in sanguinated feces and C) feeling sorry for my dear coworkers who had to spend all their time answering needy patients call bells. Calls bells are never utilized by people that actually need them. In most cases, meat bags in acute distress will usually holler out in abject horror/pain. These people will receive the most expedient care, whereas the "needy" patient, who constantly rings the bell, will possibly see the face of a healthcare professional after 5-10 minutes. Needless to say I am an advocate for the repeal of hospital statutes that require the presence of a call bell at every bed side. Now perhaps you are reading this and thinking of me as some abhorrent malcontent, and perhaps the malcontent part is fitting, but abhorrent no! The public, and by public I refer to the citizens of the United States of America, have become so accustomed to abusing the health care system that they no longer "do onto others...", but rather think of us as "would you like fries with that" minimum wage plebians who are obligated, by an astonishing amount of laws written by lawyers not healthcare professionals, to cater to their every need. It is a sad day when you have to spend your whole day making sure that you are not opening yourself up to a potential lawsuit, which is practically impossible as healthcare workers can be sued for just about saying/doing anything these days. So I leave you now to pick up my friend Travis from Florida at the Trump Marina. We'll undoubtedly go out for beer and food, and I will find myself looking at my fellow patrons as burdens to the world of medicine AKA potential patients...

11:59PM - Endless Sunburn

Went out surfing again today around 2pm. Let me tell you surfing around 100 crazy out of towners is scarier that surfing 15ft waves. You know that you can most likely get out of the way of another surfer, but these kids, and on occasion old men, would gun right for you. Surf nazis must die. So, due to the population of dickhead, I rode a wave in and went for ice cream with Bob and Brian, my surf senseis. Come 5pm we went up the beach some and I got bloody murdered out there. No people, just continuous set of brain crunching waves. Brain crunching only due to the fact that I did not know that I was supposed to jump off my board and dive under the wave. After getting smashed in the brain numerous time, Bob instructed me on wave diving. Life became much easier and I ended the surf day with out further complications to my cranium. Melissa and I then went to the Ocean City boardwalk where I sampled some Mac and Manco's pizza and some Kohr Bros ice cream. It's been too long since I have devoured boardwalk fare. The most important thing I did, however, was challenge Sean Doyle to a duel of the Class of 1981. Ms. PacMan and Galaga...a combo made in heaven. Sean unabashedly destroyed me in Galaga, but I had sweet revenge playing Ms. PacMan, summarily crushing him. I think that our Class of '81 feud has just been rekindled, and many most innocent space ships and ghosts will fall to our trigger fingers. For those of you interested in UK/IRE '05 (which better be more than Ben Fidalgo and I) check out www.studentuniverse.com for some sweet deals on all kinds of shit. Pardon my leaving, but I'm suffering from post concussive syndrome from King Neptune's wrath. Party on Wayne!

1:14AM - Kiss Me I'm Shitfaced

Welcome to the wild and wonderful world of alcohol intoxication. Yes ladies and gentlemen I am quite inebriated. Such is the life of an Irish sailor on a Nantucket whaler....ok maybe the hooch is causing a wee bit of halucination, but F the salty bastards that say I wasn't there rendering whale blubber 150 years ago...obviously they haven't been trying my patented ETOH time shifting technique...assholes. Regardless I bought a new surfboard...7'6" in length and an amazing ride. I can actually stand up on the bloody thing. This morning, however, I surfed in an ocean full of jellyfish feti...by far the most disgusting thing I have ever done. Spitting the nasty beasties out of my mouth every time I went under a wave...I think that God should banish jellyfish from the realm of man, and relocate them to places that don't "count" in the modern world. Like the Antartic Ocean...NOOOO one surfs there...save for assholes and hiney hobbits, but whom am I to say where jellyfish belong...Perfection alone possesses the power to extricate an entire species from their natural environment. After all...Ben hates everything that is not like himself...aka Perfection. OK I now realize that this is taking me far too long to type, and that I have no business being near a computer in my quite intoxicated state.....Spear a baby for Christ....later holmes

8:11AM - New Years In UK

Hey I realized why I never post on this thing....because I'm always so f'in wiped when I get home from work. Regardless, I would like to announce to you, my adoring readers, that we will be spending New Years somewhere in the vicinity of the United Kingdom. The rough dates are 12/26-1/7 give or take a little. We can obtain cheap student airfair and I am in the works of finding places to sleep. My personal aim is to visit key points of interest in England, Wales, Scotland, and of course Ireland. Get in touch with me if you are at all interested in this prospect. I'm going to fall down and die now....

2:28PM - My Beleaguered Soul

Ah how many days has it been since I typed something on this technological conundrum?! Grah! I suppose my attention has been held by numerous other "things". I started reading this book called "Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers". If you have the stomach for such literary works, I highly suggest you pick it up and read it. The book details, sometimes with gruesome accuracy, everything thing that society, through time, has used human cadavers for. The first chapter, for instance, regales the reader with the knowledge that plastic surgeons practice facelifts and nosejobs on severed human heads. Amazing! Aside from my new book, from which I will spare you the rest of the gory details, I was rather engaged playing Max Payne 2. It was rather entertaining if not short, but then again it could have seemed short because I played it for 2 days straight. Needless to say I beat Max Payne 2, and started playing Pro Evolution Soccer 3. This game has aptly held my consciousness in it's grasp, and I find that when I am at home it is all I can give my attention to. I do find it funny, however, that I post about things that are trivial, while Perfection posts seem to possess depth and meaning. I think that if I weren't spread so thin I would also post down the workings of my inner mind, but apparently european soccer players and human bodies preoccupy my thought processes. I should also take the time when I get home to post about summer life in the BTMH ER. However, it seems that I feel the need to play PES3 instead. I will make an active effort to change this practice, and to devote more time to my journal. Oh yeah I'm 24 now...don't remember much of that night so I suppose we'll sum it up to a lot of Tullamore Dew. Cheers!

5:06PM - Postapocalyptic Posting

Indeed a week has past since my last LJ update....boo-hoo! Contrary to popular belief I have not been whisked away to emergency rehab for alcohol abuse. In fact I survived Melissa's pig roast with barely a scratch (on my body and/or liver). Much to my chagrin, however, the 1/2 keg of Killian's Irish Red that I purchased died a most premature death. Never in 3 years has a keg been kicked at our annual pig roast, but this year we tapped yon keg at 1300 by 1730 the keg had spout it's last mouthful of suds. While I was initially upset, I quickly regained my alcohol suppressed thoughts and realized that something great had been accomplished...I mean who drinks a 1/2 keg in 4.5 hours? Answer: A bunch of heavy drinking, hardcore, pipe-hittin mothers playing beer pong. I am also proud to announce that I discovered something so great that the pillars of the scientific world will be shaking long after I leave this tenuous world. Beer, or rather should I say the chemical compound ETOH, or ethyl alcohol, has the ability to allow one to fast forward thru time. Now as taken back as I am sure you are bare with me for just one moment. I have scientifically tested this theory at Melissa's pig roast. I began drinking at 1300 and did not stop until 0030. 7.5 hours of constant consumption (I still don't know how I am alive today to tell this tale), and the entire time passed by as if in a matter of 3 hours. One could say that the alcohol dimmed my senses and that I merely do not remember all of the events that took place, but alas I do! I speculate that if one could consume enough alcoholic adult beverage, without overdosing and ending up in a body bag, that one could, in fact, travel to the future. Your heads must be spinning...I know mine is, but believe it! I am living proof that travel to the future is possible and readily accessible to all adults over the age of 21...of course! For those wishing to travel to the year 2051 please contact me thru this page and we will coordinate a date for which to "pickle" ourselves with the nectar of the gods and fast forward thru these dark times. Well I will gladly answer any questions posted, but I must leave to attend to the needy masses of meat bags in Cape May County. Wish me luck and hopefully tomorrow I can regale you with tales of shambling flesh eating zombies

2:30PM - Ragnarok Approaches

I am most happy to report that I had one day off yesterday. I slept quite soundly until 7pm, at which time I decide to arise from my place of rest and pay a birthday visit to my cousin Matt. I had some cake and coffee with the family before heading off to Canal's and the movies. I picked up a bottle of Tulley at Canal's, as well as procuring a 1/2 keg of Killian's Irish Red for the pig roast. I think that we all deserve the upgrade from Yeungling to Killian's, seeing how the pig roast happens only once a year. Completing my liquor transaction, I met Melissa at the movie theatre to see Dodgeball. Hilariously stupid, I suggest that you all see this film in all of it's glory, and if for no other reason the bar in the film in named The Dirty Sanchez. There are also numerous references to the shocker, and the more obscure "bumpkin". What is a bumpkin you ask? A bumpkin is the act of receiving fellatio whilst defecating....amazing? yes.

5:23PM - Je suis Travail

Six days of work in a row and I have one more left....more to come if I'm not torn limb from limb by a pack of rabid zombies....

10:57PM - My Triumphant Return

Got back from DC yesterday. I have no truly amazing tales to regale you with, but I can tell you that we stayed in a hotel owned by Ganesh, Inc. Now I am not a Hindu faithful, but I can imagine that naming one's corporation after a god is....hmmm....sacrilage? Not that I wouldn't love to open up a chain of bars named things like the Pub of the Holy Sepulchre owned by Christ, Inc. The Indian owners of the Ganesh company could, of course, be just as blasphemous as any one of us. Enough dwelling on that though, this hotel was located in a dominantly, not primarily, black neighborhood. Melissa and I were the only white people left on the metro car for the last 4 stops. We were stared at quite a bit, but that was all we needed to feel uncomfortable. I was mildly buzzed for all of our metro rides so I really didn't care that I was being stared at, but there was always the slight twinge of "oh my God I'm going to pay for my race's sins". Maybe if things escalated I could argue the plight of the Irish Americans? Oh well maybe next time...Check out the Irish pub we went to in DC...here is the url

http://www.dublinerdc.com