It was early evening. I looked forward and up (simultaneously) at the moon. This is always a very mystical sight for me (the moon is visible, but it is still light out). This sight today got me thinking: would Earth having two or more moons (kind of like the two suns of Tatooine except moons), be a positive influence or detrimental? I’ve rendered a picture of what a typical evening may look like with two moons using Photoshop elements; view here.
I’m unaware if they would be blue and red respectively, but I think that would be neater than if they were just white. I also don’t know if one would have a shadow. I took my artistic liberties to the edge and back on this one. Traveling back to the original question, I think that the Earth having two moons would be more positive than detrimental for 3 reasons:
1) The lunar cycle
3) Less car & plane accidents
In conclusion, I think the Earth gaining another moon would have a positive impact because of the lunar cycle, aesthetics, and less plane & car accidents.
What do you think? Email me at email@example.com if you have points to back up my hypothesis, have a different viewpoint, or if you think two moons would be detrimental.
I woke up to the sweet surprise of Mommy offering to make me breakfast. She made me a “toad in the hole” (an egg dropped inside of a piece of buttered bread with a hole cut in the middle of it. It is then cooked in a pan on some sort of heating element. There are alternative, more popular names for this part of a complete breakfast, but “toad in the hole” is the best. I like the idea of food being named after animals and I like toads in general). The heating elements on our family oven suck, so it took forever. Finally, after waiting what seemed to be about 4 minutes, I received breakfast for the first time since I had Hardee’s breakfast (reference “My 1st breakfast in a long while”). I took a bite and………… it tasted like a McDonald’s hamburger! I could not believe it. I really wondered how this happened. So I thought about it, and then got to thinking why I was thinking about it. And that’s how I spent the entire day.
It’s high school graduation time, and this year my brother is part of the fun! My family and I attended the graduation ceremony that was just a little over two hours long in duration. There was one highlight during the ceremony: the superintendent of the school zoomed to the stage on a Segway to give his speech. The sequence reminded me of Gob from Arrested Development; that in turn reminded me of the new season (4) that had been released on Netflix about a week prior. I have not yet watched any of the new episodes yet because I’m watching the first three seasons over again (Arrested Development is a program built off of thousands of ongoing jokes. I believe that I will be able to enjoy the 4th season more if I jog my memory first.). Back at the graduation, I sat, watched, and listened some of the time. I took about 8 bathroom breaks. I think I might have diabetes. Actually there was one other highlight! The student speaker said something kind of entertaining. He said something like, “For many of us, an exciting post secondary education awaits; for others, this will have been the best 4 years of their lives.” I practically removed my shoes and pants laughing. No one else shared my amusement. I assume that high school was the best four years of a lot of their lives? Who gives a fuck. So the names start to get read off (a piece of paper) and the students begin receiving their own personal “key” to the world. Without warning, a baby’s screech shattered the warm oxygen molecules in the gymnasium. Of course this disrupts the concentration of the entire crowd that has gathered on this special day for the singular purpose of watching an important young person in their life graduate high school. Family, friends, and relatives did not travel from the ends of the Earth and from the middle of butt fuck nowhere to listen to inconsiderate baby bitch about its life. Everyone is already aware that you can barely speak English and have a hard time expressing yourself. No one needs to be reminded of this, so why are you doing it? I always wonder why babies are so inconsiderate, especially in public. They know exactly what they’re doing to the individuals around them, and they enjoy it! I’ve seen it! I’ve witnessed at least four babies in public crying and carrying on that I’ve been in a reasonable viewing vicinity to (this is about 5 feet because babies can’t see much further with their underdeveloped weak eyes). While in the reasonable viewing vicinity, I scorned all of these babies. I could see that twinkle in their eye that isn’t present in more mature humans; in addition, they all have their own tick when they become nervous and realize that their little act has been found out (i.e. barefoot twitch, eye wink, blowing a kiss, giving the finger, etc.). Just know that whenever some baby makes a scene in public, it’s a fucking act, %100 of the time. It’s just being an inconsiderate fuck. Afterwards we ate at Qdoba (the shittier Chipotle). Their claim to fame is the queso cheese sauce and quesadillas. You get asked at least nine times if you want the queso sauce. “Would you like our new queso sauce on your burrito? How ‘bout on your taco? It goes great on the salad and in fountain drinks! No? How about I put some in your wallet and you can try it later! Inconvenient? Are you driving far? I’ll put some in your car’s gas tank and you can siphon it when you get home!” You get the picture. They are so god damn fucking proud of that mediocre sauce. Chipotle doesn’t possess either of these items (they do not require these useless nubs and chubs to sell product). If I wanted cheese sauce, I’d go to Taco Bell, and if I wanted a Quesadilla, I’d have Mommy go to the local food co-op, buy some high quality cheese, and build it at home for my sorry ass. Anyone that says Qdoba and Chipotle is “the same thing” is just plain egnormoose (this word is used in a small game involving pegs and a wood triangle we bought at Cracker Barrel when I was younger). Here’s why: Qdoba’s ingredients are not as high quality as Chipotle’s; they do not fuse together to form one dish. They should work together to create something greater than themselves. This lack of quality and unity is evident in the overall taste and texture of whatever item you purchase. After the OK lunch, we traveled home and plopped down on furniture, preparing for the eventful night of Television viewing ahead.
This memorial weekend has been the most hectic memorial weekend since I was 14 years old! It was reminiscent of coleslaw for me (just the act of looking at coleslaw births a pit in my stomach and sends the shakes to my hands. I will rarely walk down a potluck line for this reason. Usually Mommy will walk the line in my place and grab my desired foods). Since it would be impossible to depict all of the exciting events that took place this weekend through writing, I have decided to elucidate in detail, a few of the most memorable moments from this wild memorial weekend. On Friday, I awoke and sauntered into the kitchen. There was a note written on a medium sized yellow paper notepad. It read, “Terry, mow the lawn. It needs to get done today –Father”. As I pulled the cord to start the machine and the metal blades began slicing grass blades, I started to wonder, not what’s in a “Wonder Ball”, (the “surprises” were never actual surprises; they actually revealed in the commercial the contents of a Wonder Ball: “Who knows what surprises a Wonder Ball can hide? Yummy Nestle chocolate with candy shapes inside”. The only thing to wonder as my Mommy and I drove away from the gas station was why the hell I got a “Wonder Ball” for my snack. They were difficult to eat and all around disappointing) but rather when and where did this idea/act/tradition of cutting grass originate? I started to do some research. It turns out that mowing the lawn started back in the Middle Ages when a peasant farmer desired the front of his house to look more lively and fresh. Currently, the land around his house was basic dirt that surrounded most houses in that period. As a boy, he had lived on the island of Ireland and remembered the lush green hills. He decided he would fill his lawn with this plant (grass). Within the next few days, he boarded a ferry headed for Ireland to unearth the seeds he considered necessary for a lovely front yard. Long story short, he acquired the seeds and traveled back home to plant them. It took an exaggerated amount of arduous work and late afternoons, but after a year of fooling around he discovered all of the secrets to growing aesthetically pleasing grass plants. The only issue now was the length of the grass. Pre-grass lawn, the peasant was able to easily play tidily winks, but now with the tall grass, tidily winks was virtually impossible (the tidily winks would be engulfed by the tall grass and become impossible to find). So the peasant decided to cut the grass. He put two knives together (reminiscent of our modern day hedge clippers) and cut the grass down to an acceptable height for tidily winks. Eventually, more and more peasants started following suit with grass in their small front yards, and then kings started to desire this green decoration in their courtyards. So here I am now, cutting the grass, passing the time (change) with thoughts, as we often do. When I completed the task, it was almost supper time. Mommy was home and asked what I wanted. I had a hard on hankering for a meatball sub, and the easiest way to do this according to Mother was Subway. I decided that this was probably the best choice, even though Subway is almost never the best choice. As we all know, Subway pioneered the “healthy, build your own sandwich assembly line” genre in the fast food industry a couple decades ago. Over the last 10 years, other fast food sandwich parlors have emerged, dethroned Subway and introduced the masses to better tasting sandwiches (Jimmy John’s, Erbert & Gerbert’s, Pot Belly’s, etc.). Anyway, there are only a few items I will buy at Subway if I am forced to dine there: some sort of standard cold cut on the flat bread or the meatball sub. I will be describing the latter. The fascinating fact about the meatball sub at Subway is that it is simultaneously the best and sketchiest item on the menu. (Now about half of you may be saying, “Wait a second Terry, the tuna sub is definitely sketchier than the meatball sub.” Technically, you would be correct in saying this, but the tuna sub is not delicious, I would never order it and that is way too much tuna to eat in one meal time, so it is being omitted in this description. It is not a component of my personal reality). The meatballs and marinara that they have been wading in masks the dryness and lack of flavor in the “freshly baked bread”. Sometimes while consuming this I sing to myself, “God only knows what I’d be without you”, (because it is quite delicious) but then the next instant I’m thinking to myself, “God only knows how long you’ve been wading in that marinara and what kind of meat you are.” The taste and ideology of the meatball sub outweigh the origin of the meat and general uncertainty about it. Back in real time, Mommy goes to pick up my meatball sub at Subway. She gets back and I eat it with some original Ruffles and a can sprite. It was fairly enjoyable since this was my first and most likely last meal of the day.
I rose from my nest of blankets today like some sort of small bird (I’d like to think that it was like a Blue Jay, because they are one of my favorites). It was still kind of early still; I believe the digital clock read 12:16pm. I walked into the kitchen to a very pleasant surprise: Mommy was home! She asked if I wanted a Lloyd’s Barbeque (a brand of premade barbeque that comes in a variety of meats and flavors in a plastic container. It can be purchased at most grocery stores) sandwich for lunch because there was one bun left! Of course I accepted. Last time I had lunch was those grilled cheeses she made a few days ago (reference “Early morning”). So I ate the barbeque sandwich with an apple that was cut up by mom. The Lloyd’s barbeque mix was actually surprisingly delicious today. Usually I feel that it’s too sweet. I have not consumed it in a few years, so maybe they changed the formula? The main point here is that it made for a solid lunch. As I was finishing up, mommy said something along the lines of, “I’m going to need you to take the van to the store and get me some white kidney beans.” Of course there was a catch! This was quite a wrench thrown into my overtly over-greased machine; I had a few things on Netflix set up on instant queue that I was set to watch after lunch (not to mention checking my multiple emails and testing out my new long board wheels). This was now going to be the biggest part of my day. Finally, after loads of protest through the action of lying on the couch and acting as an ill individual, I put clothes on (other than boxers) for the first time in a week, dragged my bitch ass out of the door leading to the garage and sealed myself inside the silver minivan. As I pulled out of the driveway, I paused. This was my first time leaving the homestead in a week. I needed to collect and prep myself for the cruel outside world. As I drove away, leaving all of my unfinished business behind, I switched the radio on and tuned the station to 99.1 fm (Z.99, Northern Minnesota’s Classic Rock Station). The current song was just wrapping up. I forget which song it was (It was probably some trashtastic ‘80s song. I hate a lot of that shit). Then, all of a sudden, I hear one of the most motivational piano parts in the history of music play over the stock van speakers. It was of course none other than “Roll with the Changes” by REO Speedwagon. I don’t care who you are, if this song does not get you pumped up about life, you need some sort of treatment. I instantly start playing air drums. Simultaneously, Jesus of Nazareth floats down from the sky, through the passenger side window and takes a seat next to me, entering the song perfectly on cue with lead guitar (whenever I play air drums, bass or any instrument while driving, I like to fabricate this image of Jesus sitting in my passenger seat, joining me in the band. Usually he is playing lead guitar and is wearing a headset for backup vocals, but sometimes he will play bass. Having Jesus present legitimizes this dangerous driving behavior on my part and gives me a feeling of invincibility, which is necessary when you are playing a fake musical instrument and driving simultaneously. If something goes wrong, Jesus will take the wheel). This song fit tightly with my current life situation. It was the perfect song for the perfect moment. I was at home, doing my own thing, my own routine, and then something changed. I basically had to change all my plans, uproot everything that had been planted, and just “roll with the changes”. The song finally arrives to the climactic finale with the choir like “keep on rollin’” line that keeps repeating. Jesus and I are going full steam at this part, singing backup vocals and playing our instruments in the grocery store parking lot (I can’t leave until this song is over. That would be a sin. I couldn’t do that to Jesus). The song finally ends, Jesus leaves, and I venture into the unknown. Turns out the grocery store hasn’t changed much since I’d been in it last. Finding the white kidney beans was pretty fucking easy. I then went to buy them with the money Mommy had given me for this purpose. The lady scans it, and then asks me if I want paper or plastic. Obviously I don’t need anything, it’s one fucking can. I said, “I don’t need a bag.” I then drove home and rested the entirety of the afternoon. What an energy taxing day! I learned that rolling with the changes is an important aspect of life.
When I awoke this morning I was finally able to say in my “outside voice” that “Everything is back to normal!!!!” (because nobody was home). This was favorable, because with everyone gone I could finally slip back into my normal routine discretely; nobody examining my every minute action under a microscope, nobody to walk by the open bathroom door while I’m deep in the #2 process, no one to tell me I can’t perform my “experiment” in the driveway. The only negative aspect about all family members absent, especially Mommy not being “in the house” is that there is no eating time for me. This forces me to look forward to Mommy coming home and making that evening meal I like to call supper (some individuals enjoy branding the evening meal “dinner”. Something about the sound of this word exiting the human mouth does not sit well with my psyche. I am firmly against the use of this term unless it is modified and referred to as “din-din”. I feel that the modifier, “din-din” is an overly cutesy, completely unnecessary, fun term, and that in itself for some reason always puts a big ol’ banana grin on my face. The golf term, “tee time” also gives me a similar feeling). So here I was in the house, like a young Macaulay Culkin as Kevin McCallister, home alone, except my parents and brother knew that they had left me here. It was another gloomy overcast shit-show outside, so my “experiment” in the driveway was out of the question. Instead I decided to look out the big window in the second living room for a period of time. At one point I witnessed a squirrel braving the wet weather in order to obtain food. This got me to pondering various questions: “What goes on in small animals’ minds? Where do they sleep? What is it like when they sleep? Do they have any sense of when they may die?” These questions reverberated inside my brain tissue for quite some time as I stared off into this world that was slowly becoming greener by the minute (the rain is forcing the grass and foliage into being a very bright green color. It is a natural occurrence). As these questions plagued my mind, I started tearing through our family DVD collection to try and find something on this subject of animals that could possibly give me some answers. I finally found something suitable and inserted it into the DVD player. Fantastic Mr. Fox has to be the best documentary about inter-small animal communications ever made. I was completely unaware that animals thought and acted the same as humans and could speak English (I’m not completely sure on the English speaking part. The audio of the voices was not exactly in sync with their mouths, so I’m thinking that the English may just be overdubbed English translations, like the ones in old Kung Fu movies). I used to think that Planet Earth was the apex of animal documentaries, but after seeing Fantastic Mr. Fox, my mind was BLOWN. FMF answered so many questions about small animals that PE did not even touch with its pinky toe. Shortly after the documentary that triggered my epiphany ended, the comforting silence was shattered by a faint large engine noise in the distance. I quickly hopped off the couch without pushing the recliner back into its spring-loaded position (not the best state to leave it in). I made it to the window in time to see the turd colored UPS truck screaming down my neighborhood street. It began to decelerate as it approached my driveway. “Oh shit”, I thought to myself as I quickly employed “shut-down mode”. I turned off all lights and the Television, locked the doors, and found a hiding spot in the first living room. I could hear the truck idling in the driveway. What the hell did he want? Whatever it was, I sure wasn’t going to give it to him. He always comes when my parents aren’t home (pretty interesting). I heard him pitter patter up the porch steps. He then knocked on the door. “Yep, see, the lights and TV are off, no one’s home, you can leave now,” I said to myself, but he kept knocking! Did he need a signature or something!?! Well I was not going to be giving it to him! I’m not capable of something like that! “Come oooon,” I thought to myself, “there’s more packages to deliver, more places to drive, it’s almost 3pm, you need to get going if you want to complete your whole route…” and then the knocking stopped. I heard the big engine rev up again, and I listened as the brown box filled with smaller brown boxes rambled away, hopefully to never come back ever again.
I awoke today to the faint sound of the television in the 2nd living room of the house. For the second day in a row, I was confused by this commotion. I thought to myself, “It’s Monday, Mommy and Daddy are at work and little brother should be at school.” I got out of bed to go check it out. As I approached the scene, I could see that the game show “Millionaire” was on. Now I thought, “It MUST be Mommy because she watches marginal game shows occasionally.” From my viewpoint, I could not see anybody because the couch faces the TV, and I was behind the couch, slowly advancing. When the front of the couch came into view, my brother was on the opposite side, using the recliner built into the couch with a gigantic blanket covering his body. I asked him what the hell he was doing here. He explained to me that he had “puked” in the morning and had had an upset stomach since 12am, so he barely slept. He would be staying home today. I decided to accept this and sit down to watch “Millionaire”. The format of the program has changed. The contestants now stand up the whole time (sitting down is prohibited). The amount of money each question is worth is now random until the $100,000 mark (fairly irresponsible). The thing that surprised me the most was not the new format, or that my brother was watching this, it was rather that this was a NEW episode. I thought this show had ended a few years ago. After Regis left, they should have quit. He was “Millionaire” as far as I’m concerned. Anyway, the current contestant held a vague resemblance to “Mr. Pringles” and Meredith Vieira (the host) repeatedly brought this “fact” up. This would not have ever been mentioned if he would not have had a ridiculous moustache; his face held no resemblance to Mr. Pringles whatsoever. At one point Meredith had a picture put up of the two side by side on the studio monitors and they didn’t even look that much alike. Shortly after the picture disappeared, Meredith said something like, “You two look like identical twins! It’s unbelievable how much you look alike, although Mr. Pringles probably isn’t as well endowed as you are right now. You have $43,000 in the bank; let’s move on to the next question!” Now, I think it’s safe to say Meredith was not referencing penis size in this instance, but rather the amount of monetary wealth each of the men possess. I do not believe for 11 seconds that this guy on “Millionaire” has more money than Mr. Pringles. According to Wikipedia, “Pringles are sold in more than 140 countries, and have yearly sales of more than US$1.4 billion.” According to this source, it would seem that $43,000 isn’t even worth a piece of fish shit to Mr. Pringles. What a ludicrous claim by Meredith Vieira. It seems that she would have an acceptable understanding of money since she probably has a decent amount herself, but in this case Vieira seems to be completely delusional. I guess this is the high price of fame. However, after considering all of this information, I am starting to think that maybe Vieira was referencing penis size. Regardless, it’s time to move on. “Millionaire” ended and my brother brought up the display guide on our TV that shows programs, times, etc. When I saw the current time of day, my heart dropped: “2:58pm”! I woke up at like 2:30pm and was completely unaware of it. This is another one of those instances that gives me a bad feeling: the unintentional afternoon wakeup. This made me depressed. The whole day had been wasted. I needed to at least attempt to redeem this day somehow, so we watched the 1975 classic Death Race 2000 on Netflix. I will never watch it again, but there were some fun scenes. I have not yet received an email back from David Blaine or Criss Angel (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, reference my last post, “My 1st breakfast in a long while”). Overall, what a disaster of a day: an extremely late start, shitty TV and film viewing and no email responses.
Before I rolled my sorry ass out of bed I heard some commotion this morning. The door to the garage had been opened and closed a few times (the family cars live there, so I assumed Mommy or Daddy were going somewhere, but it was Sunday, so I didn’t know why these actions were happening so early). Shortly after these events, I crawled back into Mr. Sandman’s tomb. I was then awoken again by the door opening. Mom came in my room and said, “Do you want a Hardee’s sausage biscuit?” I bolted out of bed and sat myself down on a stool in front of the huge Hardee’s bag. My brother was already chowing down on biscuits and gravy. Now anyone who knows anything about fast food breakfasts knows that Hardee’s has one of the best. While other fast food breakfasts are utterly underwhelming, Hardee’s is a little less underwhelming. Here are the two reasons I have handpicked for why Hardee’s has the best fast food breakfast:
2) The sweet little cinnamon rolls
First, the biscuit is very chewy and moist. The texture and taste of the biscuit is a match made in heaven paired with the “sausage” patty. Second, Hardee’s has these great little mini cinnamon rolls that are to live for (you want to keep living so that you can keep eating them as opposed to resembling some Christ like being and dying for them). It is comforting to pound the salty meat down first and then taste a little kiss of sweetness for dessert. I think that I have made my case here. The rest of the day was TBS (Typical Bull Shit). Nothing very notable happened. Currently I am distracted by a perpetual state of disbelief because I’m viewing some sort of David Blaine marathon on cable TV. I thought Blaine had been dethroned from his self made role of the mainstream street magic king when Criss Angel burst onto the A&E network with his own show a few years ago. However, while watching these Blaine programs, I’ve realized that I was incorrect. David and Criss are King and Queen of mainstream street magic, although I am unable to decipher who is Queen and who is King at this moment. I think that it may fluctuate. I’ll “shoot” them an email for verification and let all of you know their views on this matter.
It was a relatively early morning. I received fantastic sleep because I finally slept in my own bed (if confused reference my last entry, “Wishing I woke up on some side of the bed”). It was 9:42am, and I had the whole day ahead of me! I decided to hop in the shower and see if anything inside the shower chamber had changed since I’d been gone. The only thing that changed was the water pressure. It felt like a baby was giving me a massage (we all know that babies are horrible masseuses). I could barely wash my hair. My medium length hair was still greasy when I exited the somewhat relaxing space. This shower left me feeling depressed, and as a result, the rest of the day was exceptionally unproductive. Since it was Saturday, my brother was home for the day (he attends high school during the week). We decided to play couchy potatoes for awhile because everybody wins at this game (you just pick an animal that is inherently lazy and then sit around or lay down in a very informal way and watch cable TV for at least an hour and a half. My brother and I were both a lion fish). I then went to mill around in my closet. I found a huge knife and checked the sharpness. It was moderately sharp! I then started to imagine what it would be like if I just stabbed my stomach and what that would feel like, what would happen, etc. Shortly after these thoughts entered my mind, I became nervous and put the knife away. At this point in the overcast day, I had not yet eaten. Mommy made us grilled cheese sandwiches with pepper jack cheese and cut up a pineapple. It was nice to have lunch again! The pineapple was not the main event, but quickly challenged the grilled cheese for the top spot. I think that it is safe to say that the pineapple won.