He wrote a rape story, and not even a good one

Last year I was in an advanced creative course and the first day of class we all talked about our creative processes. One guy told us that he liked to write his stories at the bar, and he looked kinda nerdy, so I thought, 'oh, so he writes his Dragonball Z fan fiction while sitting by himself at Good Time Charley's. Good for him.'

That same guy volunteered to have his first paper peer edited that next week and wow, I couldn't have been wronger.

He wrote a rape story, and not even a good one. People got raped and they cried and there wasn't even much of a plot between all the pointless swearing, the Capitalization for No reason and, you know, the rape.

I got competitive and thought 'well, heck, I could write a better rape story than this guy. I'm new to the rape genre, but at least I'd use symbolism and motifs and I'd try to tell a touching story ... about... rape...?'

Yeah, that never happened.

(work.)

Anybody else take a creative writing course and get a classmate like this? And are there any other Creative Writing Classmates you think are recurring?

I'll start:
There's almost always the sorority girl who blatantly adapts her stories from her own life. Every story had a protagonist who looked and acted just like her and, coincidentally, every story was really bland.

She'd buy, like, a million houses

Yesterday some BDubs, me 'n the other dudes were talking about what we'd do if we had all the money we'd ever need.

Just then, three girls asked to sit at our table until they could find their own. We said sure, have a seat, and then asked our question.

The prettiest of the girls said, 'I'd buy, like, a million houses, and a car, and I'd buy a hot guy, and -'
'Whoa,' I stopped her. 'You'd buy a hot guy. As in, you'd buy a slave?'
'Whatever, I'd be rich,' she replied cuntishly.
'Oh.'

People, she'd buy a million houses. That way, over the course of her life she could visit several hundred of her houses a day. She'd spend a few minutes at each house, then move on to the next. This life of constant travel and slave ownership sounds AWESOME.

(work.)

I'm bothered whenever I realize that a person fits a stereotype. Within seconds, The Housemonger described above dashed any possibility of shocking me with any of that, um... What do you call it when you think of stuff on your own? Oh yes, original thought. I know for a fact that you can be in a sorority and think for yourself, but Housemonger and her buddies Genericface and Thyroid Problem must not have time to do that between following others and putting out to strangers.

So we let the girls sit at our table while they waited to swoop in a freshly vacant table purely because:

1. They weren't horribly ugly.
2. We had the seats open.
3. Vaginas!

As soon as the question left my mouth and went into Blondie's ear, her eyes got wide with excitement.

"How much money do I have?"
"Enough to do whatever you want."
"Like, how much?"
"To the point where money is no longer an object."
"So, like, billions?"
At this point I thought breaking my glass of beer over her face, but beer's expensive, so I held back.
"Sure, you have billions."

Then, instead of telling us about her plans to find spiritual enlightenment in her free time, she basically said, "I'd buy everything, like, ever. Also, there'd be slaves." Good thing she didn't come off as shallow or anything.

Then the girls talked about their pledge class and Thyroid Problem told us about a song she'd written about her sorority (A parody of a popular song. Genius!) while Genericface thought about shampoo. They ordered waters (which none of them really drank), looked for an empty table, then left without leaving anything for the waitress. The waters were free, but come on, ladies, don't be assholes.

In conclusion, those girls sucked. The end.

Street preacher sucks at the internet

Today the homophobic screaming preacher should be out on the Diag. This guy's 'on tour', hitting UofM as only one of many college campuses that will get harassed in the name of God.

However, my biggest problem with him isn't his homophobia or his assholish tenacity. Oh no, check out his website.

Mike Venyah condemns college kids for sinning, but come on, man. 3d word art on a red background over poorly-compressed jpegs? You're the sinner here, buddy, not me.

Page titles include: "Do you have BLOODY HANDS?", "Why Rap music will send you 2 HELL!", and "What kind of fireman are you?" All of these pages seem compelling, but it's hard to read them because the links to them go to somebody's D: drive.

So before that guy on the Diag yells at you and makes you feel bad for drinking, smoking, and engaging in lots and lots of sodomy, keep in mind that he sucks at the internet.

(work.)

If you're in Ann Arbor and you see this guy stomping around the Diag and he says you're going to hell, counter that with "Oh yeah? Your website is poorly designed." That'll show him!

This guy wears shirts that say, "NO HOMOS GO TO HEAVEN!" My buddy Danny also pointed out that he had to make those shirts himself because regular t-shirt screeners probably wouldn't make them. What this means is that while he's a loud, mean man, he's also a t-shirt screener using his powers for evil.

Next time you see this guy yelling at innocent passersby, picture him making t-shirts for hours and hours. Seems a lot less menacing now, doesn't he?

Hiding garbage in a Blue Cab

Anybody here ever call the Ann Arbor Blue Cab? Because you should never, ever call Ann Arbor Blue Cab.

I was going from the train station to work and I had to get there within 45 minutes. So I call them, they say they'll be there in 15, then in about 45 minutes they show up and a guy just comes out and says 'hey.'

He may as well have said, 'Hey, you call a blue cab? 'Cause we didn't take down your name or phone number, so we basically have no way to identify you, so yeah, get in.'

As I'm riding in his hoopty I realized I had no way to get revenge on this guy for making me late to work. I couldn't refuse to tip him because that's directly mean and I was already late so calling in and complaining would just make me later, so I decided the only thing I could do would be to hide garbage in his car.

Unfortunately, I'd used a trash can earlier, so my stockpile of pocket garbage was depleted. But from now on, I'm carrying garbage with me to punish people I don't like but have to deal with anyway.

(nap.)

On my way out of the Blue Cab, I tried to squeeze out a fart. Any cab driver who stores my luggage in a dirty trunk lined with blankets deserves to smell poop air for a few seconds to a couple minutes, depending on what I ate.

I doubt people would make the connection between the strategically hidden garbage and their crappy service. Bad waitresses will get a fair tip, but I'm taking all the sugar packets I can fit in my pockets and then hiding gum wrappers in the ketchup bottle. That way, the next group of people to sit at that table will be treated to a small pile of Bazooka Joe comics on their french fries and that bitch waitress well get a bad tip from someone other than me.

Starting sentences with "I'm from New York"

I think if you mention that you're from New York more than three times in a short conversation, you are an asshole.

Actually, saying you're from anywhere too much makes you an asshole, but more often than not New York is the place mentioned most.

Examples from tonight:
'I'm from New York, so I'm not used to smoke in bars.'
'I'm from New York, so I think everyone here is being snooty.'
'I'm from New York. New York New York New York.'

Even worse was this lady was from the state, not the city, but by saying 'I'm from New York' she can try to cling to the city's glory even if she lives in the less awesome state.

Anyway, after this lady talked about New York I forced her to eat a hammer.

(bed.)

What do conversations with these people sound like when they're actually in New York? "Well, I'm from here, so... fuck yeah I like mustard." I don't think you need to provide a context when you're discussing mundane shit. None of my mustard conversations have involved geographical backgrounds.

Spoiled little brat facing corruption charges

My girlfriend just started a job working for a lawyer. The other night I was on the phone with her when she said, 'Ah crap, my boss is on TV.'

Ah crap?! Your boss is a TV star and all you can say is 'ah crap'? Fuck, if my boss were a TV star I'd, um.... I'd... fuckin' wonder why he's still my boss. Yeah.

'No, this isn't good. They're talking about him in this corruption trial.'

Oh man, girlfriend, you surely have made a mistake! I told her she should get legal advice on the issue, just...not from him.

'Hey, you're going to prison, should I still work for you or are you going to ruin my life the way you ruined everybody else's?' That's a hard question to ask your boss.

Hey, maybe the next away message will be good. I'm running late.

(Work.)

Today Amy told me that her boss didn't like the way her presentation went, and I shrugged it off. I can't help but picture her as the adult and him as the spoiled little brat facing corruption charges. Why should she care what he thinks? She's not on trial.

Parking tickets and ducks that can talk

On both Tuesday and Wednesday I was legally parked on a sidewalk (I can do this; I drive a university service vehicle) and on both days I received a parking ticket. I wasn't in the wrong, so I took pictures of my oh-so-legal parking job and they're being sent to the Public Safety Dickheads who write parking tickets to make people sad all the time.

Getting those two tickets on Wednesday got me thinking I should make a t-shirt. On it, a silhouette of a man is having sex with a duck. A speech bubble is near the man's mouth and it reads: 'I write parking tickets.' And maybe the duck's saying, 'I'm a talking duck.'

Then on the back it says, 'People who write parking tickets have sex with ducks that can talk.'

Who makes t-shirts? Let's print off a few. I'd gladly wear my revenge. It's not libel if it's true. Suck it, talking-duck bangers.

(Angell.)

People who write parking tickets must be sad, miserable people, I imagine that over time they become sexually aroused when they see a car parked over a yellow line, or they pop a microboner every time a car is less than three feet from a driveway and they get to write a ticket. Then after they stick that ticket and put it under some unlucky bastard's windshield, they gleefully make a little mess in their pants, wipe it up, and go back on the prowl for petty crimes.

Spoiled bitches, the C word

You ever watch something on TV out of pure hatred?

I stumbled upon My Super Sweet 16 on MTV last night. The show's called that because rich girls celebrate their 16th birthdays in a super sweet kind of way. However, they could convey a more accurate sense of what the show's about by calling it Spoiled Cunts Obsess Over Petty Shit (or SCOOPS, because I just accidentally made an acronym.)

One girl asked her dad to get Eminem for her party, then thought her dad actually got Eminem (she asked her dad if her guest was from Detroit and her dad said he wasn't telling.) Then when some random guy performed a song he wrote for her, she started crying.

Then her dad got her a car that cost more than my college tuition. At the end, she summed up the evening by saying tearfully, 'I got a car, and I am, like, a totally new person.'

Apparently New Car + Cunt = New Person and not just Mobile Cunt.

(Saucers.)

I know a lot of women don't like the word "cunt," but if you were to watch this girl use her catchphrase, "that's juicy," not only would you start throwing around the word "cunt" like it's a frisbee at a Sunday picnic, but you'd start to hate white people.

Now, I'm as white as the night is not, and I saw this girl go "Oh my God I love that expensive French dress! Too bad I can't get it. I thought Paris was known for fashion," and I was ready to join the Black Panthers.

You see this overly elaborate birthday party and you think, "GODDAMN IT WHITE PEOPLE JUST GET A CAKE." Or at least I did, but I'm notoriously pro-cake.

Psychics love television

One of my aunts believes in psychics, so she got my mom and grandma to go to this guy who knows the future. Well, unfortunately for him, he gives people audio tapes so they can share their readings with their cynical children. Here are some gems from my mom's reading:

'Do you know a Walter...or a Wally?'
'No.'
(pause)
'Oh.'

'What does your husband do?'
'I'm not married.'

'Are you going on a cruise?'
'No, I'm not.'

'Do you know a Felix?'
'No.'
(pause)
'Did you ever watch that show, Felix the Cat? That was a good show.'

Great segue, guy. Just bring up a TV show whenever you can't continue your lie. I'm surprised he didn't talk about the Love Boat after my mom told him she's not going on a cruise.

At least with that trick, he can let people know that while he may be a bad psychic, he's watched a lot of TV.

(Bed.)

Here's another idea that wouldn't fit in the AIM away message window:
If my mom wasn't wearing a wedding ring, then why did he ask her what her husband does? This guy not only sucks at telling the future, but he sucks at telling the present, too.

I spent a decent amount of time Easter Sunday making fun of the psychic guy in front of my aunt, who refers to him by name ("Rod", the most mystical of trucker names).

"I'm picturing someone with hair. Do you know someone with hair? Or maybe they're balding. I see that they live in a house. Or an apartment. Do you know anyone like this?"

I read about a study where they showed people a list that consisted of both male and female names. The female names belonged to famous women, while the male names belonged to just random dudes. Subjects said that there were more females than males on the list, but in actuality there was an equal amount of both. This is because people are more likely to remember stuff that is the most relevant to them.

Knowing this, I made it my duty to point out every Walter and Felix in that dickhead's reading. While he talked about a "sensitive male who is about to go through some changes" and my mom "ooh"ed and "aah"ed at his accuracy, I was saying, "Hmm, maybe that's Wally. You can take him on that cruise with your husband."