I appreciate you.

Okay.

So, with a little under an hour until I head off into Northern Indiana with my father, I figured that I'd just sit my unhappy ass down right here, right now, I type whatever fuck comes into my mind.

I chose the word "fuck" because that is the EXACT way I feel about everything that is about to happen.

As I've posted about million on my Facebook wall, I will not be able to spend time with people that I actually care about, as the ball drops onto the new year of 2011.

And since I've little time to give my 2010 synopsis, I'll have to do my best to nostalgify (no...this isn't a word) myself.

2010 was fucking weird.

I began the year at Adam Friedman's house, and I'll end the year by the Tippecanoe River, about ten minutes away from Brookstown, Indiana.

I think that if I had to go through 2010 again, I would die.

Actually...I think I DID almost die a few times in 2010.

I lost a few best friends.

But then I made some more best friends.

I traveled all over Indiana.

Southport, VU, Acton, Bloomington, Waverly, and other such travel areas that I've yet to figure out the names of. Probably because I was too tired.

I had my heart broken. Twice. I think? Either way, one of them contributed to wanna of my near "passings."

Well...maybe it wasn't broken. A sprain, maybe. But not completely broken.

I saw Wavves.

So. Much. Food. More notably, McDonalds.

I danced a lot.

I smoked a lot of cigarettes. Never again.

The best friends that I had lost, came back to me. Now I'll be going into the new year with the best set of friends ever.

Coincidentally, I'm also starting off this year like I did last. Without a job. And without a girlfriend.

Except, the job thing is kinda under control. As for a girlfriend, I dunno. I'm waiting.

I never had that kiss I've always wanted. Where the guy and gal are close to each other, and the gal puts her hand on the guys face, as if she could draw him any closer.

Didn't happen.

I saw some good movies.

I laughed a lot.

I cried a lot.

I worked my first job.

I got fired from that same job. I'd do it all over again too. IDGAF

I started college. Then two months later, Marian accepted me. I'll start there my sophomore year.

Notre Dame beat USC.

I graduated from high school.

This is so chronologically out of order.

I really want to thank a bunch of people for making this year so fucking weird.

Wesley Wren, you motherfucker. You're such a good dude. At least I hope you are. You contributed to a lot of what I went through this year. Don't knock it 'till you try it.

Chloe Fox. You also helped me a lot this year. More than I could ever imagine. I can't picture moving forward with my life without you in it. We'll be going to Marian together. Let's go Knights!

Adam Friedman. Broda. I love you more than any man should ever love another man. I'm okay with this. You and I went through a lot of shit. But now...now we're broda's again.

Dustin Arritt. Unfortunately, you'll be down in VU. But I'll visit. I don't care how lost I get. We've been best friends since sixth grade. Let us not forget what you and I went through only a few years ago. But I've got your back. As long as you've got mine.

Gage Harris. I'm surprised I have anything good to say about you. You saved me from my ulcer attack. I will forever be indebted to you for that. 10 plus years baby. YOU CANNOT BREAK OUR STRIDE.

Did I forget anybody? Oh well. I haven't the time.

Amelia Todd, Laura Haselwander, Yesica Rosales, Davis Williams, Dusty Bracken, Ryan and Emily Bradley, Kim and Dave Willoughby, Kara Brenneman, Eileen Weber, Jeff Yager...and whomever else I haven't named, thank you for everything you've ever done for me.

I love all of you with everything I am.

And as for 2011?

Fucking bring it.

Oh...and take the test.

Christmas Eve

I've been going through a serious case of writer's block lately.

Maybe it's because I'm not staying up for two or three days at a time.

I dunno. It's whatever. I'm just glad Christmas is almost here. I like to see people be happy and stuff. And things.

Anyways, Merry ALMOST Christmas you guys.

I just wanna point out a few people that I hope have a wonderful Christmas day.

Wesley, Adam, Dustin, Dusty, Gage, Laura, Chloe, Tori, Kim, Dave, Logan, Austin, Kaden, Snickers, Eileen, Stefanie, Daniel, Katie, Yesica, Abbie, Aaron, Chuck, Alexis, Amelia, Andy, Ben Miceli, Ben Wernz, Brittney, Brian, Carolyn, Emily, Ryan, Brock, Chris, Connor, Kevin, Davis, Eduardo, Armando, Gabby, Deb, Mark, Hanna, Jeff, Judy, Sarah, Sara, Kara, Mum, Kelly, Kristen, Lee, Lissa, Marissa, Matt Glant, Matt Timbs, Russel, Schilling, Shelbi, Shelby, Susan, Tasha, Thomas, Trevor, Tyler, Kaitlyn, and Zach.

Hopefully I'll be able to kick-start my brain here pretty soon. I miss writing for you guys.

Be safe.

And again, Merry Christmas.

I used the word "Christmas" four times, and it almost seems like it's too much.

The Hunter

I really don't have anything to write about.

I think I'll just talk about this guy.

Wesley Wren.

I love you.

I'm not going to write anymore.

Foff.

Oh, and I should be finished with the story that Chuck Bronson helped me with later today.

I think I mentioned it in my last post.

Anyways. Wesley is a good guy.

If you wanna text him, his number is 317-911.

Twitbook

So I have a Twitter account now.

I know, it's not that important.

But what IS important?

I'm almost done writing this little short story for my blog.

Chuck Bronson helped me with it.

UNFORTUNATELY

I am being forced against my own will to attend church tonight. So I doubt it will get done before six, which was my goal.

Also, I have a bad habit of exposing my problems to people at the worst possible times.

I have. I will. I am.

First of all...

Are the St. Louis Rams really in first place in the NFC West?

Or I as I say...

"NFC Worst? Hahahahaha."

No. I'm kidding.

But seriously? C'mon Seattle! You've got TWO highly touted Notre Dame players on your team! Step. It. Up. I hear that Curt Warner was willing to sign on. He's like fifty years old though, so don't push the man.

I bet everyone is really confused right now.

Curt>
I dunno. I'll talk to Wesley about that.

"Dude, KURT Warner. Hands. Down."

Why the fuck is it "hands down"?

I guess phrases like that never usually make sense.

OKAY CALEB FOCUS

So I'm really loving this Christmas spirit going around Indiana right now. More notably, down town Indianapolis, since I spend so much more time there.

And by "there," I mean like ten minutes away from my house.

I set my alarm for six o'clock this morning.

I decided that I should start taking a nap between 2 and 5:59 in the morning. That way, I don't feel weird when I've been up for four days.

I woke up and made some coffee. Fucking...coffee. It's becoming that line for me. I can't cross that line. I'm one cream and sugar away from, "Yea! I'll have a double shot espresso latte frapacaparapatapamochachinoooohhhhWHATTHEFUCKAMIDOINGHEREDEARGODSAVEMEFROMTHISBEANHELLFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!"

Anyways.

I wanted to be up this morning. Because lately, I've been staying up and writing down all of my thoughts in my note books. And I usually find myself doing most of my writing in the hours when the sun is coming up.

I like it.

It's making me mold myself into a person I want to be for the rest of my life. It's making me comfortable in my own skin. It's making me wish I would have done this during high school. Things would have been so much better.

I'm starting to appreciate myself more and more. Before this, I would have found some way to burn myself.

But now I like myself. I like what I'm doing. I'm liking what I'm going to BE doing. I'm liking the fact that I've surrounded myself with wonderful people.

Sorry...love.

Eventually, I'm going to dig so far into my brain, that I'll be able to make everything better. So much better. The best that it can be. And you guys will be a part of it. Because I love you.

I'll just keep on writing in my note books.

I'll just keep on pushing. (Ahh. Running with the devil.)

I'll just keep on making things better for myself.

I'll just keep on making things better for you, darling.

For you, Wes.

Mother.

Gah.

I've rewritten this stupid blog post about a millions times. I can't get it right.

Fuck.

Last night, my mother bought me a new thumb drive, and transfered all of my saved files from my old computer onto it.

I pulled up the files onto my laptop.

So. Many. Papers.

So. Many. Pictures.

Ffffffffffffffffffff-

Everything was on it. From 2006-2010. Every picture and paper from high school was on this thumb drive

Article summaries from my freshman year in Teverbaugh's class.

My "Evolution v. Creationism" paper from my sophomore year in Hunter's class.

My WWII project from my junior year in Cunningham's class.

My "Thank You" letter to Eileen Weber from my senior year.

Old pictures from my Myspace before I deleted it.

Then I happened upon my "Grad file."

It was a saved file from some writing I had done the night after I graduated. I remember crying a little bit I was typing it up. And I cried a little bit while reading it again.

It consists of two entries.

One was a rehash of the night I got home from graduation.

The second was a quote from Wesley Wren.

After I had gotten home...

"After I had gotten home from eating at Steak 'n' Shake with Adam and Amelia, I went and sat down at my dining room table.

I had my certificates, my diploma, the diploma cover, and the cards that Kristen, Chloe, and Tammy had given me.

I read everything over and over again.

I wouldn't even read the words sometimes. I would just look at the paper itself. Like the quality of the paper, the little gold seals they used, the border, anything to keep it from ending.

After I had read everything, I put them in the wafer colored folder that the school generously provided for us.

Then I stared at my opened diploma cover, with the diploma inside, and that little plastic protector thingy.

I remembered EVERYTHING from my four long years at Perry.

All of the friends I had gained and lost.

Love, hate, acceptance, achievement, failure, appreciation, awkward sexual experiences, teachers, growing up, learning, crying, laughing. Pretty much everything.

I closed the folder, rested my head on the table and cried a little bit.

I love you, Perry Meridian High School. I love all of the friends you've given me, and all of the teachers you've let change my life.

And most importantly, I love all of you guys.

Honestly, I truly love all of you.

Some of you deserve apologies from me, and some of you deserve my heart.

I will never forget any of you."

Wesley Wren...

"Words will never express the absences that our parting will create. I'm gonna miss you pal, please keep in touch."



I just wanted this to be on here.

It has a lot to do with you.

I wanna address three things in this blog.

I mean, I really want to.

I reallyyyyyyyy want to. Too? Two? Twoaaaah.

"We've got two minutes...twoaaaah."

I fucking love the Pacers.

I'm going to look into my notebook, and type up condensed version of what I've written.

*backtrack*

I thought I was going to address some things?

No. I'd rather not.

I'd rather talk about how I shove all of my hand into my pockets, instead of having just my four fingers in with my thumb hanging out.

"...instead of having just my four fingers in with my thumb hanging out."

You know where I'm coming from.

Or how some people just have their thumb support the rest of the hand.

That looks really gay. Unless you're posing for some kind of magazine.

But no, guy at the mall with a beanie and fake aviators and the Ed Hardy t-shirt on. You look fucking stupid. Stop that. And your jeans don't look cool...just because they have rips and tears in them.

Tears=Those are his boyfriends pants and he was crying on his lap the other night.

But anyways.

Entire hand. In pocket. Looking cool.

Instead of handshakes though, I elbow bump.

Sometimes I like to keep weird things like pills, thumb drives and pieces of a note that Brittany Woods threw into my book-bag during our freshman year. And when I'm in an elevator full of people, I like to scream "I AM IN HELL FOR THE VERY LAST TIME!" Then I'll throw the stuff in pockets at people and leave on whatever floor I'm on.

So I liked this girl. I think I still like her. Yea...I still like her. But she has a boyfriend. And that really sucks. But I'm not going to stop being nice to her just because we can't date.

Woa Doctor...

I'm not sure we would have dated anyways. I run away with feelings. So, I think I'll just backtrack and stand where I'm at.

I really hate that I'm not any girl's "type." I'm not skinny. I'm not good looking. I'm not a hipster. I don't drive a cool car. I'm not really good at ONE thing.

Instead...

I'm working out. I'm at least interesting looking. I know Wesley Wren. I have a nice truck. I'm semi-mediocre at a bunch of things.

I'm Caleb Shane Tucker.

"You got to take me, as I am. Or leave me, the way you found me."

I just got all serious.

I think I ended up covering those three things.

I think.

I really like writing. And I really like that people tell me that they like my writing. I get inspired.

I wrote this because Laura Haselwander said so.

Take the test.

And then after you take the test?

Future husband=Present husband.

I wish I had a "Funk Button."

I would push it, and everything would get funky.

"Because when I get down. I get down. I get down all the way" *sung to the tune of Jingle Bells*

I can't tell you why.

I'll be writing a pretty extensive blog entry tonight/this morning.

I think my heart broke, but it may possibly be a sprain.

Yea...there we go...I have a sprained heart.

Or something like that.

But anyways. I gotta get some stuff out.

Also, Wesley Wren saved me tonight.

Thank you broda.

I'll be back.

I feed tigers.

This is going to be a relatively short blog.

What does "relatively" mean?

I guess it just makes me sound smarter, or whatever.

So it's been almost a year since I officially became an adult. And i say "officially" by non-official standards, considering that I won't really be an adult until I'm twenty-five.

But this morning, I think I took another step in reaching this adult whatever it is.

I made coffee.

I know. What's so special about making coffee?

Well....

That's the point.

It's NOT special. It's not supposed to be. I'm just making coffee for myself.

But you see, this is where it begins. This is how you train yourself to be awake every single morning for the rest of your life.

It's not like I went to the gas station down the street and fixed my brew, or went to Starbucks.

Fuck Starbucks.

I measured how much water I needed, measured how much coffee I wanted, turned on the magical machine, and six minutes later...I had coffee.

I guess I just felt weird. Sitting at the kitchen table by myself. Drinking this...bean water.

I'm not ready for this.

Can I live?

Spokane.

So yesterday, I was whipping my hair back and forth...

I left Dustin's house this morning at about five-thirty, and it was pouring rain. And of course, the back window of my truck was leaking.

"Maybe...if I drive really fast...I'll get home quicker! Then I'll be able to get these wet towels out of my back seat! Which means I can take dry towels, and put them where the previously wet towels were! Yea!"

So I was driving fast. And by fast I mean I was going the speed limit. Which is pretty fast considering it was (and still is) cold and rainy outside.

And I turned onto Southport Road going about fifteen miles under the speed limit, but that wasn't enough. So instead of me actually turning, I slid. But this time I couldn't stop. I kept sliding and sliding. Eventually my truck went through the video store across the street, and then hit a bunch of houses.

Why was my truck still sliding?

It wouldn't stop!

My sliding truck was picking up speed and a white tunnel began to form around it!

I had hit a time warp...

Eventually I was sliding faster and faster, increasing speeds and no way for me to stop it! My doors wouldn't open and my phone wasn't working because I was in a time-warp tunnel! I screamed and cried! I tried to unbuckle my seat-belt so I could kick open the windows, but it was jammed! I kept going and going and going and I couldn't stop sliding! I was surrounded by an array of colors! Some colors I had never seen before! I saw Father Time! I saw Mother Nature! I saw God! I saw myself! I saw her! I saw a light! WHY WAS THIS HAPPENING ME!

And then I woke up, got into my truck, and drove home.

Todays date: November 25, 1999. Fuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

cup.

I don't like Nascar.

And that's weird. Because I used to kinda almost sorta like it. But I think that's only because my dad would watch it when I was little, and I grew up thinking I was a Dale Earnhardt fan. Then I realized I was a Tony Stewart fan. Then I realized that I couldn't care less. "Fuck it. Let's watch more football."

Last night, as I sat at my new roll-top desk, I began writing all of my habits down in my notebook. Some good, some bad, and some so weird that they couldn't be good nor bad.

And I re-read them after I was done. Some of them made me laugh. Like how I always keep my chair next to my bed so Snickers can jump up at night, or how I make sure every single loose strand of hair is pulled out of my head after I take a shower.

But my favorite one, neither good or bad, is this.

"I narrate my own life in such a way, that I lead myself to believe that I live in a parallel universe."

And I know that sounds weird, and yes, I was narrating my life way before J.D. was.

But I really do this. I always run things through my mind. First in the normal way, or at least what I perceive to be normal, and then through the impossible scenarios that may exist in the parallel universe. In fact, it's this thought process in which I've written most of my college papers.

And my professors love them. I do this, because sometimes I like to think that any given situation could have happened in a different and more crucial way.

For example.

I'm driving down the highway. Someone is driving really close behind me. And I'm talking, like so close I can smell the drivers after-shave.

Whenever this happens, the driver eventually realizes that I'm not going to speed up. So he, or she, switches into the next lane and passes me. Nothing bad has happened.

Except........

In my mind, these scenarios played in my head.

1. I brake check the driver, either causing a wreck, or he just ruined both vehicles. I'll leave that up to the drivers behind him.

2. As the driver passes me, I roll my windows down and jump onto his vehicle. I then jump into his vehicle and I either steer straight into the highway dividers, I steer into oncoming traffic, or I throw the guy out the window.

3. I follow the driver. Wherever he drives, I drive. The rest may or may not be history.

4. I veer more to the right of his vehicle, then I steer left into it and cause the driver to spin backwards into the vehicles behind us. Oops.

Even though I would NEVER do these things, and I never THINK of them as something I would do, it's still something I could be doing...in a parallel universe.

Whenever I burn incense, it makes my Diet Coke taste like Pine-Sol.

I've been awake for seventy-four hours and fifty-one minutes.

Fifty-six minutes.

I'm out of things to write. Either that, or I'm too tired to think of what I really wanted to write before I started writing all of this nonsense.

Fifty-seven.

Iron Lion Zion

I'll admit...I've only seen the first Harry Potter movie and I've never read any of the books.

And you know what?

I don't care.

I'll never watch the movies and I'll never read the books.

I like Twilight.

I've seen all of the movies so far and I've read all of the books.

And you know what?

I'll continue to watch all of the Twilight movies and read all of the Twilight books. Because that stuff appeals to me.

I don't know what my deal has been lately. My sleep pattern is all messed up. I keep falling asleep at ten. Then I wake up at three, then go back to sleep at five, then wake back up at twelve.

I was watching "The Walking Dead" for the first time the other night. It was episode three, in case you were wondering. I hate horror movies, and this show would be classified as a horror show. But I watched it anyway, even though I was scared at the zombies. And these were like...legit fucking scary zombies. Ew.

And I was laying in my room with my television on. I heard a bunch of noise upstairs. It was probably my mom or Chuck. But because I had just watched "The Walking Dead," I though it was a bunch of fucking scary zombies coming downstairs to mess with me.

So I noticed the light in the kitchen was turned off. And I can tell, because the light usually creeps past my door because I leave it cracked a little bit in case Snickers wants to come in.

I muted my television, and listened carefully. I couldn't really hear anything other than the whir of the furnace. But the silence I was hearing was the kind of silence you hear when someone is close by and trying to be really quiet. I got up out of my bed and went to open my door, and right as I'm pushing my door open...

MY MOTHER IS STANDING RIGHT FUCKING THERE OMG IT SCARED US BOTH.

She's lucky she wasn't a zombie. Because I might have rabbit punched her in the nose.

Ridiculous People

I need to write. Big figging time.

First of all, I need to address a few people really quick. I feel as if I need to explain something to you, in front of...well...whomever is taking the time to read this.

Chloe Fox.
I love you. So much. And I know, we exchange "I love you's" a lot because we really DO love each other as best friends should. I hate that I'm so upset at the fact that you're dating Seth now. And I'm not mad at you, or him, or anything that has anything to do with you two dating. I hate it because I didn't take the freaking chance all of those times you were with me at Kim and Dave's watching Notre Dame. But I'm not now, nor will I ever be upset at anything you say or do.

Adam Friedman.
God...I write and talk about you so much. I promise no homo, but it's getting to that point where even my mother questions my sexuality. Well whatever. But I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you being my friend again. I know it seems childish, me always bitching about our friendship. But really, you're one of the most important people in my life. I hope it stays that way this time. Just...fucking hit me in the face next time I act up.

Taylor Wicker.
You know...it was you who inspired me to start up my own blog and record my feelings and such. And lately, I've yet to really insert a meaningful post here. Anyways. I was catching up on you blog tonight, and needless to say, it was beautiful. You are absolutely one of my favorite writers. And I read H.P. Lovecraft and Marry Higgins Clark books, so I hope you're honored...again. Anyways. I hate that we haven't spoken in ever. And I hate that we haven't hung out at all. I remember that we planned on it over the summer, but life got in the way, which is totally understandable. I was just wanting to how you were and everything. I mean, that's if you even read this junk. Just saying. I miss you, and you're great.

Okay now...okay now I'm gonna write about what happened the other night.

I was watching some college basketball and eating a pizza. Again. I swear, a pizza is made EVERY SINGLE DAY IN THIS HOUSE.
That and grilled cheeses. I fucking love grilled cheeses.

So my little puppy dog, Snickers HAD to go outside and chase things ONE more time before we went to bed.

And as I'm standing at the threshold of my sun room that leads outside, I started to space out into the nature.

It had been cold and rainy and cloudy and dreary all damn day. I loved it. I love cold and rainy and cloudy and dreary days like it had been THAT day. And I was remembering something that I was doing earlier on before it had gotten dark. I was hunched over the back of my couch in the front of my house that looks out passed our bay window.

It wasn't sunny since the clouds had blanketed the sky, but the sun was still behind the clouds...it's not like it just disappeared...so there was still a dim grey lighting upon the earth. It was still raining like it had been that morning, and it was about three in the afternoon at this point. I looked down into the garden below out window. It's funny, because I can't even tell you what's planted there. Just a bunch of flowers and bushed and plants and such.

HOWEVER

I did know the name of the plants. It's called a yucca plant. My grandma had one of them growing in the front of the garage in Kentucky. They aren't regarded as a "pretty" plant, but I like them. They grow as a big yellow bulb and eventually sword-like leaves starting sprouting from the bulb. The one we have is about five years old, so it's pretty big.

Raindrops fell on and off the leaves for fifteen minutes. Eventually the rain let up and the raindrops were able to stay on the leaves without falling off. I stared at those raindrops for forever. I just wanted to live in one of those little drops. With the grey light and the green from the leaves making it a minty green color. it just looked so beautiful. I wish I could live my life in a watery minty green bubble.

Well anyways, I'm standing at the threshold waiting for Snickers, who was still barking at something. I decided to walk out into the grass. It was almost icy. My feet against the cold, wet grass. The mud was slick too. I probably could have broken out went down the hill. I could see my breath so clearly. I don't think it was THAT cold out. I kinda just stood there. I wasn't thinking about anything. Just standing. And I hadn't realized that Snickers was like, "Hey dude, lemme back in the fucking house. My paws are cold." For some reason I find it appropriate for my little five pound chihuahua to say "fuck."

I just felt like getting that out of my system. I know it's not worded exactly how it should be. I need to revamp my writing techniques and such. I feel like I'm getting further away from how I used to write. It might just be in my head.

Any errors? Lemme know. It's four in the morning and I'm tired.

I only hope that Adam, Chloe and Taywick read this.

College Hoops

Okay. Ok. Okie.

This is gonna be a blog post dedicated to ONLY the 24 Hour College Hoops Marathon.

Sound boring?

I don't give a fig. Or fuck. Whatever.

So here are MY predictions of EVERY game in the marathon.

Oh. And major ups to my bud Jeff Yager for helping me out and such. We're thinking of starting our own sports blog. Now THAT would be awesome.

But lets get to the scores and predictions.

Game 1: Miami at No. 19 Memphis

I'm a little late for this one considering the game has already started. HOWEVER. It's at half-time right now, and Miami in only one point behind Memphis. I'm calling the upset. Miami over Memphis by 5 points.

Game 2: St.John's and St.Mary's

This is a really odd game. Two devout catholic schools playing each other? Expect blood. St.John is returning ten, count 'em, TEN seniors from last year. And even though St.Mary's lost their two biggest post-players, they have one of the best shooting back courts in the country. It's gonna be a doozy, but I'm thinking St.Mary's barely squeeze by in a tight game. Sorry Gaels, but even this win doesn't promote you to "knock-off" status in the WCC.

Game 3: Central Michigan at Hawaii

Don't bother with this game fellas. Both teams are mediocre at best and CMY played an early Sunday game already. They aren't used to the time change, so I'm going with Hawaii by 10 points.

Game 4: Stony Brook at Monmouth

I hate the Dallas Cowboys. I hate Miles Austin. I hate Monmouth. Stony Brook finally put together a decent season last year and made it to the NIT. I totally expect them to kill Monmouth by at LEAST 20 points.

Game 5: Robert Morris at Kent State

The only reason Kent State is going to win this game is because Robert Morris got ripped of their loins after a near upset in the tournament against Villanova. Sorry Colonials, but Kent State has this game by 15 points.

Game 6: Northeaster at Southern Illinois

Both of these teams are picked to finish in the bottom half of their conferences. But with that being said, the Salukis (SIU) have some Indiana talent on their roster. I'm going with SIU by 10 points.

Game 7: Oral Roberts at Tulsa

Oral Roberts may or may not win their conference depending on how well Oakland does, and Tulsa is a joke even on the football field despite their 23+ win seasons the last three years. I'm going with Oral Roberts by 5 points.

Game 8: La Salle at No.17 Baylor

Eh. This is a totally lopsided game. La Salle is looking really bad this year. And I mean like...A-10 bad. Baylor by 30+ points.

Game 9: No.20 Virginia Tech at No.3 Kansas State

Now THIS is gonna be a good game. You have two Top 25 teams from the ACC and Big 12 conferences and Va Tech has a LEGIT chance to make the tourney this year after barely missing it the last few years. Unfortunately, despite how close this game will be, I think K-State pulls away in the final stretch for the win.

Game 10: Marist at No.7 Villanova

No contest, Marist lost all but one game last year. 'Nova by a BUNCH.

Game 11: No.5 Ohio State at No.10 Florida

Wow. This is probably THE premier game of the marathon. And even though I SHOULD write a lot about this game, I really only have one thing to say. Just because Ohio State lost their best player in Even Turner to the draft, that does NOT mean that they aren't stacked. They are loaded at shooting guard and forward. Florida? Fuck you Tebow. I'm flaky though. This goes into overtime and Ohio State wins.

Game 12: Detroit at No.11 Syracuse

I wish Jim Boeheim would just figging retire. So what, you only won ONE championship? Two bad you couldn't win it when it counted against IU. Gotta love them Hoosiers, and me bringing up something that happened thirty years ago. 'Cuse by a bunch.

Game 13: Miami(Oh) at No.1 Duke

No. I'm calling the upset. Duke goes down.

Game 14: Saint Joe's at Penn State

I think Joe Pa is coaching the basketball team this year. Taylor Battle is gonna rock some heads in the Big Ten conference this year as well. Penn St. by a bunch. Love you Jeff.

Game 15: No.18 Butler at Louisville

I know we're all still pissed about Butler losing in the championship to Duke. And I know that despite losing Gordon Hayward to the draft, Butler STILL has Shelvin Mack, Ronald Nored AND a new and improved and beefed up Matt Howard. I love Pitino and the Louisville Cards...but I don't like the name if their new arena, even though that won't be the reason they lose (though I would like to believe so). Butler by 15 points.

Game 16: North Dakota at No.25 Wisconsin

Ugh. I'm getting tired. You can't beat Bo Ryan in November. Badgers by a bunch.

Game 17: Belmont at No.23 Tennessee

Get it together Bruce. Yet another upset. Thank you UIndy. Belmont on top.

Game 18: South Carolina at No.2 Michigan State

Whew. I kinda like Michigan State. I thought they should have beaten UNC a few years ago in the championship game, and I know they're pissed about the tough Big Ten schedule they've got going on. South Carolina doesn't have the 'Ole Ball Coach in this game. Michigan State by 20 points.

Game 19: San Diego State at No.12 Gonzaga

Okay. So even though I thought that SDSU should have stayed at No.24 in the pre-season polls, and even though I think they'll make the tourney this year, and EVEN though they have a big man at forward (6-foot-7 Kawhi Leonard), I still think that Gonzaga wins...but only by 8 points.

Game 20: Nevada OR Pacific at UCLA

Okay. So this is an odd match up. Whomever wins the Nevada v. Pacific game gets to play UCLU. I'm not sure why it's set up like that, but it is. Deal with it. I think Pacific beats down a sluggish Nevada team and I also think think that they route UCLA.

IU will make the Big Dance.
Butler makes the Final Four.
Winthrop and South Dakota State will also make the Big Dance.
Irish barely get by and make it too...the Big Dance.
Duke will lost in the first round and only ONE ACC team will make it into the second round and beyond (UNC).

Grammatical errors? Hahahahahaha. You're funny.

The Jack Hammer

I have to be up in four and a half hours. I might as well stay up longer.

I went to the play at PMHS last night called "Pillow Talk." It was really good and funny as Hell.

"You're so hard."
"Not lately."

Also, I'm pretty sure the whole play was based upon Wesley Wren's life. I'm just saying.

So I was texting my mother today while I was at work. Now...other than the fact that I probably should NOT have been texting at work anyways...my mother likes to think that his rule doesn't apply to her. I usually find myself talking to her more often when I'm at work over texts, than any other time.

Anyways...

So I recently had Charlie take all of the change I've saved up over the last six months from work so he could use his bank's coin star machine. And since he he's a a bank member at this particular bank, they won't charge him anything on the dollar.

In the end...I would be getting all of the money without having to pay a...use of machine...fee? Or whatever. You know what I mean!

Well I was wondering how much it was I had saved up, since I hadn't spoken to him in a couple of days. So I figured I'd ask my mom. Mom's should know these things right? Right??? Kinda. And maybe not ever. But i couldn't even tell you if she knew or not..because this is the conversation we had via-text.

Me: "Hay mom, do you know how much I had saved up in change? I don't know if Charlie has it or not."
Mom: "Vodka?"
Me: "Vodka? wtffffffff?"
Mom: "Hahaha, wth? Idk, I'll have to ask him."
Me: "Stop texting like a teenager. You're not sixteen."
Mom: "I used to be a teenager!"
Me: "Yea, like a million years ago."
Me: "A million and one! Get it right!"

...wow

Also, my mother isn't seventeen years old. I know some of you were wondering. BECAUSE ONLY SEVENTEEN YEAR OLDS TEXT LIKE THAT

But she owns a house, a car, and apparently John Travolta and Eric Clapton. The first step is admitting you have an obsession. She has yet to do so.

That was my day. Because work was uneventful.

Dedededededede

DAMMIT!

I have like...NO time to go over all of the awesome things that have happened since my last blog post...which was over a month ago.

And I hate that I'm so lazy that I can't type up ONE story a day. I mean, it really makes me sad. I feel like I've let Chloe and Taylor down.

And it makes me happy to see that I have as many followers as I do, especially my sister. Emily Bradley...this is my house and you will PROTECT my house.

I guess I'll give a brief synopsis over the month that has passed since my last post...

1. Notre Dame still continues to break my heart. If they can just win TWO more games...two...more...fucking...games...

2. For those of you who truly care about me, and worried about me over the last six months, I'm fine now. It'll be okay.

3. I'm going to Marian starting my sophomore year. HOW AWESOME IS THAT!

4. I saw The Wavves with Wesley Wren

5. Again, for those of who were worried about me, Adam Friedman and I are talking again, and I may or may not be playing bass for a band of ours again. This makes me cry happy tears of happiness.

6. I broke my record for most McGangBangs consumed in a night.

7. I had to drive Dustin down to Vincennes a couple of days ago...ask me about that when you have the chance.

8. I've begun a workout program at LA Fitness so I can play some football at Marian. Progress is slow, but I'll be there eventually. And ladies, if you start to like what you see, do tell!

Umm...I'm almost positive I'm missing some stuff. Whatever. It's like three-thirty in the morning. Gimme a break. (kit-kats)

Shessh, I know this isn't quality writing. I've gotten away from that in my blog, and I hate it for you guys who choose to read this.

But just wait, I'll start dedicating more of my free time here, I know you thirteen people want to read what I have to post. Maybe. I don't really give a flying fig.

The thirteen of you make me happy.

Blablabla.

My life is good right now.

Also, The Jackhammer. Wes and Zach, that's happening a lot more often now.

I will attempt to start back up the greatness which I had begun some months ago on Blogspot. And by attempt I mean, if I'm NOT watching Sports Center. Again. Fucking football.

September 4, 2020

Notre Dame. Game 1. Win over Purdue. 23-12

I should start up another blog, and have it deal ONLY to Notre Dame.

The Irish played well today.
Crist was a little rusty. But he's fresh off an injury, and he didn't throw an int.
Allen played exceptionally well today as well. He need this to be THE season for him. Rudolph was absolutely clutch during second/third and long.
The Defense...I love their spark. They actually WRAP people up! I was impressed! However...they did fall asleep a bit in the fourth quarter.
C'mon fellas.

Next week. Michigan.

Fuck Michigan.

Part 3

Oh my damn...

It's been so long since I've updated this. I feel bad. Not for you guys. I could care less about you. I feel bad for me. Being as I have about a trillion entries to fill in before September.

But before I begin...

Last night, instead of writing a paper, I was at the Murat Theater watching the Black Crowes perform. They were great. They were awesome. They were right on time. They are one of THE greatest bands over the last twenty plus years. Steve Gorman is one of THE greatest drummer ever. And Chris and Rich Robinson are the absolute greatest brother-singer-guitarist ever conceived.

So where was I?

So I turned left.

The series of events that took place after I had made the left turn would essentially change part of my life. You see, when you're in a vehicle with three other people, and those three other people INCLUDING yourself are teenagers, you take in much more than you should.

Adults drive all stupid like. As if the destination is the only important part of the drive. We embraced our surrounding, though we were all in my big-ish truck. We also felt what was going on outside. It was beautiful that night. 68 degrees. No humidity. The sky was a little hazy, but the moon gave us light.

We took a bunch of back roads...and then some more back roads...which eventually lead us to...somewhere...

But it was Ryan, who finally said the one thing we all had on our minds. Road trip.
But he wasn't content on saying that we should just gear up and head across Indiana that night. No, because that would be silly.

It was then, that we began our planning of our Canada trip. Now when Ryan first mentioned a trip to Canada...I'm pretty sure I can speak of myself as well as Dustin and Dusty when I say WTF CANADA?!?!??!

But it was only for a second. It took one second for it to sound like a fucking great plan. So we discussed it. All the pros and cons. Actually...there were no cons. Everything sounded incredible.

Speaking of incredible.

At this pint, we're lost. Like...we may possibly be in another state...kinda lost. We finally found a gas station to score some drinks, as well as figuring out how the fig to get back home.

I asked the cashier...some beast of a lady. Ish. Whatever she was, where the Hell are we? She spewed off some jumble off letter and words and phrases. Essentially...she was saying the we were in Waverly, Indiana. And all we needed to do was take the interstate that was in front of the station, and that would lead us back home.

But that sounded EXTREMELY boring.

So we took some more back roads.

Yes. I am, indeed, turning this into four parts. Suck. It.

Part 2

I just wanna say a few things before I dive into Part 2.

1. My sister is great.
2. I get to see Guster in October.
3. !

I left off with myself, Dustin, Dusty, and Ryan in my truck, with me driving forward into some dark abyss.

It ended up being some parking lot, with random medians of trees, which eventually ended, and flourished with fields off grass, and a giant hill. That hill of which Dustin rolled down upon, only to reach the end where Dusty and I were waiting to kick the shit out of him, since he was so confuzzled from the roll downward.

We didn't. But it would have been funny as Hell.

It was beautiful. I was like...four in the morning maybe? I dunno. It was pretty fucking late. It wasn't to terribly hot outside, but muggy enough for the moon to cast a fuzzy light upon the fields. I felt like we were in a Zelda game of sorts. We went walking some ways, then decided to head back to my truck. It was getting late, and we all wanted to go home.

But as soon as my 199 Chevy Silverado revved up, I decided that we were NOT going home so soon. Yea, Dusty needed to go to his plato lab class the next morning...but that was unimportant to me.

Instead of turning left out of the dark abyss, I decided to swing a right. Just for funsies.

We ended up taking some back roads through some corn fields, where we ended up having to make a difficult decision.

Tracy Road.

We turn right onto Tracy Road, we go toward Greenwood, eventually leading us back home.

We turn left...and we get lost, thus leading on an adventure.

Oh yea.

I turned left.

Part 1

So I've been really busy this week. Like...insane in the membrane busy. I have a lot to talk about. Or at least I think I do. In my mind, there's a lot to be said. But it probably won't be much. But who gives a flying fig?

So...I'm gonna say it was Wednesday when this all started. So I wake up Tuesday morning with nothing planned for my day. Just a clean slate. I had the day off and I hadn't any plans. But you know, when you have friends like I do, you don't need to make plans for something awesome to happen. I ended up going to Dusty's grandmother's house that night. They were all playing DnD, I of course, spent the entire time throwing in my two cents. That seems to have worked out for the best, since I'm not much of a player anymore. So they all agreed that I could play humor. And I'm okay with that.

I has also listened to A7X's new album. Now...even though this will be on a different post...anybody who's thin enough to say that their last album isn't any good...is fucking stupid. And I'm not even a fan, nor do I find it that easy a listen. But I won't go into details...not yet.

So midway through the DnD quest, Dustin and I had decided to go out and grab something to eat. Dusty over heard the convo, now he's coming with us. Blablabla, and hour goes by. Dustin and Dusty are ready to go, I'm ready to go. We're all freaking ready to go. HOWEVER! Ryan decides to join us, and I haven't a problem with Ryan. He's become a good friend, and I very much enjoy his company. So we go out driving for something.

Mind you, it's like...four in the morning. And noooooothing was opened. At least nothing of interest was. Denny's? Hell no. IHop? Nope. Taco Bell? We love Taco Bell! Alas, they aren't opened. And McDonald's is only serving breakfast. Fuck.

So we drive further down, and I decided that we were gonna go on an adventure tonight. We love adventures. I turn onto the street that my sister and step-father's neighborhood is on, and for the life of me, I can't remember the street name.

We get to the end of this road...and we have three options.

1. Either turn left, and end up near a church and a some cookie-cutter houses.
2. Turn right, and end up at Greenwood High School.
3. Or go forward into this freshly, and I mean freshly paved road that lead into an abyss.

We went forward.

quickie

This will be a relatively short blog. Fuck you. Get over it.

So my sister got her high school schedule today. I'm excited. I'll be attending her freshman orientation on August 5th. I'll be threatening any boys that if they look at her the wrong way, I'll kick their teeth in. I'll also be showing up for the first day of school th threaten all of the older dudes. Fucking gross high school boys.

Googley eyes didn't come into work today. I figured that her eyes popped out of her head, then she crashed into a tree, where her eyes then became normal. But it wouldn't matter...being as she's crippled.

I feel bad now. Sorta. Not really.

Anywhoozle...

I'll have more to write about when I get back later tonight.

Tell Taylor Wicker she's beautiful. I'm serious. Message her. Even if you aren't her friend.

Late.

bitch

I've have put aside writing a new blog for too damn long. Three days? How absurd of me. Damn me for having a life and going places I've never been too, what ever will I do to make up for it? Well I'll do absolutely nothing! You can all go fuck your respective selves and think of all of the time you've wasted reading this little rant of mine! How exciting!

But please...save that for after the reading of this delightful blog.

I've had a busy week. I went to Kentucky and Missouri on Monday, came back to Indy on Tuesday, in which I went directly to work. Then, after work, Wesley and I drove around for a few hours and listened to My Bloody Valentine. We then ended up in a place called Acton, Indiana. And lemme tell you something, Acton is a very scary place to be at one thirty in the morning. So we drove back, and THAT'S when he grabbed some My Bloody Valentine. I love these guys. Especially this one song...it makes me drift. And I like drifting. Not while I'm driving though, because I was all over the road.

Then TODAY I spent most of my time cleaning my truck. I took it to Mike's Car Wash, where I had to go through the cycle TWICE because the fuckers didn't tell me to put it in neutral, not fucking park. I came out of the dryer area with my truck covered in soap. Fuck you Mike. Then my mother got home from driving around her super cool boyfriend(....................). After she got ready and I had taken a shower, we headed over to BW3's. I then consumed twenty-four teriyaki wings and a bunch of cheese covered potato wedges.

Here comes the best party of all...

After we left b-dubs, we went over to the Showplace 16 theater to watch...Eclipse. Miss.Davis...what is God's name have you done to me? Why? WHY ME?!

Fuck.

So I really hate that I told the waitress that I knew what perfume she was wearing...and I really hate how when I told her...I was correct.

I was Very Sexy by Victoria's Secret. I used to have a friend that wore it all the time, and we always used to hang out. That waitress wouldn't even give me any re-fills after that. What a betch...I should have tried to guess what kind of bra she was wearing as well.

Red and white perhaps? 34B? Recently ripped off by some drunken lout at his trailer home after a hookup at a bar on the east side? And maybe you woke up about fifteen minutes before you were supposed to be a work because that same guy probably gave you roofies and and you had to dress in your car in the parking lot? And you most likely doused your self in that perfume so people wouldn't be offended by the smell of cheap vodka, the man's gas station cologne, unwashed bed sheets, and regret? Am I right?

Of course I'm right, you whore. Now get me some wings.

They're are approximately 83 Crown Royal bags hanging in my room.

marty feldman

This is gonna take a bit to write. Or maybe not. I don't even know.

SO last night I got to hang out with my sister, and it was pretty awesome. We had McGangBangs. She has never eaten one before, so she was like NAWWWAAAWAAWAM!!!!

And then her stomach turned inside out and kicked her eggs. Ew. We spent hours playing Mario Kart 64 and Super Mario World 64. And I mean...we were up till four. Twas intense. "WALL JUMP! NO YOU DUMMY! WALL FREAKING JUMP! FAIL! START!" We're cool.

So for those who don't know my sister, she'll be a Frosh at Southport High School next year, and she's THE smartest person I know. Like...Rhodes Scholar smart. But unfortunately...she's terribly ditsy. It's amazing. She spent an hour trying trying to tell me this...

"Giraffes are super cool! It sucks that they're being continually hunted, and they're population is dwindling by the years."

Instead...she said this...

"Giraffes are ultra cool! But there isn't as many as there used to was cuz now they aren't as many as before because there used to be a lot but now they're fewer in numbers because hunters hunt them so now there is not as many much moosen box boxen."

I was like...wtffffffff?!??!?!

Anyways..so that was cool.

THEN I HAD TO GO TO WORK TODAY!

Nine hour shifts at a hillbilly gathering hole isn't really all that great. Ever. Except when things are going okay. I started my shift at eleven, and at three, googley eyes came in...oh mercy...

So I'm standing on a different side of the counter than usual because my co-worker Niki was maning the main register. And I'm bitching about how our manager NEVER GETS ENOUGH CIGARETTES EVER AND WE NEVER HAVE ENOUGH WHORE! Oh man...and she HAD to say something...

"Blubluebluubereb buryblubbery boobooboobloooueee?"

She's speaks trailer trash...but I was able to depict her language. The best way to do this is to drool, and slam your head against a counter about seven thousand times.

"Is all you ever dew is bith and complain?"

So I'm like listen here YOU MARTY FUCKING FELDMAN LOOK ALIKE! GO HOME AND HAVE YOUR DIKE CLUB MEMBER HIT YOU IN THE PACKAGE WITH YOUR MONKEY WRENCH SOME MORE!

Okay...maybe all of that wasn't said...but I did tell her that she looked like Marty Feldman and that she should have someone push her eyes back into her socket. And if you don't know who Marty Feldman is...he's that guy who's picture I've posted at the top of this post. I know...it's funny. Laugh it up. But that's what she looks like...I KID YOU NOT!

I hope this was funny. I really wanted to base my blogs off of how Miss.Wicker writes her's. But alas, I will do what I can do best.

Also, Miss.Wicker, you're cute. Thank you for stopping by today.

ALSO...derpderpderpderpderpderpdprp blugeeegblueeegguboovoovoobooboobooboobooboo!

For Lissa. Derp.

OH my goodness...it's seven 'o clock at night. And I'm tired as hell. I need to NOT be tired. I'm going to hang out with sister tonight, and I don't get to see her that often. She's be a freshman in high school this coming up school year...oh wow...

I remember when she was so small. I met her when I was four, and she would have turned one that October. And for those of you who don't understand my sister and I's relationship; she is, in all reality, my "step" sister. And when my mom divorced my step dad my sophomore year, we got scared and didn't think we were ever going to see each other. That ended up not being the case. I'm still close to my...ex-step-dad? Whatever, he's still Ryan to me. And Emily, his daughter, is still just Emily. They are both family to me, and there family is still part of my family as well.

It was funny when Dustin told me that he missed Ryan being here as well as I, he and Davis both. And it's not like I miss him in the sense that my mom's boyfriend is mean, because he's not, he's just not Ryan. And I know I acted like Ryan didn't matter to me, or that wasn't much of a father figure for me, because he was. He taught me all about music, Notre Dame football, how to throw a football, how to drive, and most importantly, he stuck around after he moved out of the house. He didn't disappear or anything. He let me come over to his house every Saturday to watch Notre Dame play, and his family still took me in as there own.

And for that, I'm glad. Because they are some amazing people. They all still ask how my mother is doing, and they all keep in contact with me. I love them dearly, and I feel that the divorce actually made us all closer. Weird. I was certain that it would tear everything up. But it didn't. Thank. God.

Anywhoozle..

I'd like to take time and talk about my clique from Southport (aka The Group).

Yea, I know "The Group" doesn't have a lot of flare or excitement to it. But we started the name up YEARS ago. And it just stuck.

The group consists of the following awesome people...

-Dustin Arritt
-Davis Williams
-Dusty Bracken
-Ben Miceli
-Kelly (Foxy-chan) Hensley
-Ryan Schilling
-Sara Steinmeyer
-Myself

That's just the main stage, sometimes we have different people come and go. Like the most recent doucher who had to be let go, I can't say his name, but it rhymes with Even Webb.

The group started in sixth grade at Southport Middle School, when and where Davis, Dustin and I first met. I met Dustin one day during lunch because I was wearing a Black Sabbath t-shirt, and he came up from behind me (harharhar), and was like "Dude! Nice shirt! So you're a Sabbth fan as well, I presume?"

We've been best friends ever since.

I met Davis during a bout with art club one day, he was sitting next to James White in the table closest to the door. By the end of the school year, we were all good buddy's.

Now the story with Dusty is a little funny, so I'll do my best to recollect. Because Dusty and I also met during my sixth grade year as well. HOWEVER! We were sworn enemies right off the bat. There was always some kind of tension between us, probably because I was so much cooler than he was. And I'm totally kidding about that (except not really). I remember the day that totally set him and I in place. We had like... a month left in the school year, and we were leaving Ms.Adams math/science class. As I'm leaving the class room, Dusty takes a pencil, then stabs me in the arm with it. What a dick, right? Well actually, it didn't hurt. But I ended up getting him in trouble, and he was suspended for the rest of that year.

So yea. Although the 'core' of the group is Dustin, Davis and myself, Dusty had been the ring leader during our high school years. Since he always sets plans for us to all hang out, and since we ALWAYS hang out at either his parent's or grandmother's house.

And I'm glad I'm part of this group. We're all family, and we all have a strong love for each other. Sometimes that love may go a little tooooo far, we manage. We are all a rock solid, tight nit group of people. Even after everything changed. Even after we all fell apart after Sara and I's breakup. I remember calling Dustin and telling him I was no longer his friend. It was so fucking stupid.

But Dustin said something the other day, and even though we already knew it, we hadn't had a chance to hear it out loud.

He said, "It's funny how just a year ago, this was completely torn apart, and we all loathed each other. Not it has all come back together."

And even though we all wanted to tell him to stop being a fagot, I think deep down inside, we all wanted to say thanks. Because it was true. It was only a year ago, and we all hated each other. It was crazy. I never felt so out of place.

So this is me telling the group that I love them.

I love you guys. You're the best possible friends I could have, and I wouldn't change a thing about you.

Well...except Davis. Stop being a pompous jack ass.

I'm sorry this was so long and boring and drawn out and blablabla.

Sam Cooke will save me

Today was okay. I went back to work after my week long suspension, and I damn near forgot how to run the fucking register. I was really glad when all of the regulars were happy to see me. They were all asking where I was and how I was doing.

And then she came in. The woman that got me suspended. Apparently she didn't like my "condescending" tone.

I can't fucking stand this woman. She's a thirty-seven year old single woman who got knocked up at some dive bar a couple of years ago. So she hates her kid, men, and her job as a oil changer at some backward ass gas station.

And to top it off?

She's googley eyed.

So she walks up th the counter with her Slim Jims and her gas station tampons. And the first thing she says is, "They let you come back? That's bullshit!"

So I had this, like, euphoric moment. It was intense. I kid you not, I lean up on the other side of the counter, so I'm directly in front of her with her googley eyes. And I say...

"Listen here you ho bunk, white trash, cunt. I don't care that you talk about me when you leave the store, and I don't care that you send in little petty complaints about my tone of voice. But the next time you decide yell at me in front of my co-workers, and my customers, in my fucking store, I will toss you outa here so fucking fast you'll see straight. Now get the fuck out."

She walked out the store crying.

But that didn't bring my day down, it just made it more awesome. And you wanna know what made my day more awesome? This girl started to talk to me again after a few weeks. We haven't spoken since my little mishap, and I was wondering if we'd ever speak again.

And you know what? Even though we're not together, I still like to think that she's the coolest gal I've ever met. She's one of my best friends, and even though she'll probably never read this, I still love her dearly. I've never met someone who has it all together like she does. She just has "it." And I wish I knew what "it" was. But I know she has "it."

And yea, I'm upset about it. Who wouldn't be? She was my first legit gal friend. Lemme mope a while will ya?

Anywhoozle...

Blablablabla...I don't want people telling me I'll find someone else. Boobooboo, it kinda has nothing to do with that. She was great, and her family was great, and her friends were great. Err..they still are, but you get my drift.

She's still a great person. She's gonna end up making a difference some day. And it's gonna be fucking awesome.

And if I don't stop now, I'll keep ranting about her. Because she's that fucking cool. You're just jealous.

Ohh...if it keeps on raining...

Okay...fuck...

I just watched New Moon. And it's was an okay movie. It wasn't great, and I would never see it again, mostly because of the awkwardness that's injected into you. I mean, it's like they're the masters of making everything awkward. And to make it worse, I was watching it with my mom.

Now...understand...my mother is the absolute worse person to watch a movie with. Especially since she doesn't really get what's going on. Now she claims she has watches Twilight.

I don't believe her. At. All.

She kept asking me questions.

"Why does everyone think Edward's hot?"
"I bet she tastes like fried chicken and mashed potatoes to Edward!" (not really a question)
"Are those wolf people, vampire hunters?"
"Who's the guy in the wheel chair?"
"Who's the red headed chick?"

She a either a typical mother who'll never understand anything that's NOT related to her generation.

Or.

She's a typical black woman in the movie theater. Always making a scene, or laughing way too loud, or asking too many questions.

Anywhoozle...the movie was alright. It was... neutral. It left too much out of the book, like any other movie that's made from a book. But I definitely want to watch Eclipse now. I've become a fan now. I may even read the books again. I fucking loved the books.

I'm changing the subject now.

So I was with my friends from Southport again, along with Sara Steinmeyer, a friend from Perry.

And we were all at Dusty's house. It was the usual, we always gather just to be with each other. We don't always do something particularly fun. But we love the company. And I now love Black and Milds. Fuck.

And then, obviously, nothing really happened.

Until about 3:30 a.m.

It was just James, Russel, Dusty, Davis, and myself. And for most of the night, Davis kept bitching about going to McDonalds. He wanted something called a "McGangBang."

And for anybody who doesn't know what that is, it's when you take a McChicken, and you out it inside of the McDouble. McGangBang.

So I finally drive over to MickyD's...with Davis and Dusty with me. And I pull up, and I ordered nine McChickens and nine McDoubles. We had to feed five people. So shut up. We get to the window, and because we've ordered so much, we have to wait a bit. And we sit there, listening to some blues from my radio, we see one of the workers come up to this machine and make a milkshake.

Well this PISSED Dusty off.

"WHO ORDERS A FUCKING MILKSHAKE THIS FUCKING EARLY?!"

And the manger looks at us like wtffffff?!?!?!??!?!?! You fat-asses just ordered EIGHTEEN FUCKING SANDWICHES!

Eventually we get back home, where we then consume the McGangBangs. I want you all to know...it really hurts. Don't ever ever ever eat one. My friends are fat.

Damn cinema

This will be a relatively short piece of writing, as I am about to embark on a journey. That journey? New Moon.

I promised myself that I would never watch the Twilight Saga, let alone enjoy them. But After I watched Twilight, I thought "What the Hell? It can't be that bad can it? I'll go ahead and order New Moon from my dvr."

I have since, ordered New Moon from my dvr.

I also want to do a call forward here really quick, and say that it's never okay for me, and two other people to go to McDonalds at three in the morning, and do what we did. It was insane. My heart is still not 100%.

I will be back within the next two hours.

I love you.

And God save me.

plastic cups

I really hate that I didn't type anything up yesterday. But I was doing productive things. Like going to White Castle at five o' clock in the morning, and throwing salt into people's eyes. Oh...and I took a bunch of garbage and threw in onto some girl's car. She totally deserved it. Sorta. Or maybe she didn't.

And I'm pretty sure I'm going to a DnD party tonight. Yes, I play Dnd. I am a bard! I play guitar and sing and things!

So I got a new back window for my truck! Exciting?! Yes? No? Fuck you then.

I had an entire pallet of words and ideas that I wanted to regurgitate back onto here, but I have since, lost all of of it. Can I live?

Also...

Fuck you, people who ride my ass on I-65. I'm in the far right lane, going the speed limit. Fuck you.

I wish I had more interesting things to tell you.

I love that I have attractive girly friends. Thank you ladies. I love all of you. Well, not ALL of you. Most of you.

I feel like I'm trying to write like Taylor Wicker. Which isn't so bad. I love how she writes. And I'm not original. Nor am I able to function without plastic cups. I love plastic cups.

Dave: So what's up? You say listen here c--- sucker, what the fuck?
Caleb: You've lost me dude.
Dave: No. Just think, the phrase, listen c--- sucker, what the fuck?
Caleb: Dave, what the fuck are you talking about?
Dave: *fist bump* You da man.
Caleb: Thank you, Dave?
Dave: *eats more chicken* Fucking black cab driver, doesn't know who Lenny Kravitz is!
Caleb: I'm leaving Dave.
Dave: Hey mister cab driver, fuck you, ima survivor!

I love my uncle Dave.

And plastic cups.

My next blog will be more productive.

For you, Miss.Wicker

So today was pretty successful.

I got my college schedule made out today. And that process wasn't stressful at all. Nope. No way. Completely, 100% stress free!

So this is what it made it so stressful...
First of all, the lady guiding us through the process was possibly mayyyyybeeeee...80...billion. Years. Old. And random body parts kept falling off of her. Eventually she withered away, and we had three more, inexperienced young(er) ladies come in and help us. And since I'm getting in my classes so late in the summer, I only scored one morning class. Danish. Danish all to hell.

But lemme back track a bit...

Before this had all taken place, I had a dentist appointment scheduled about four hours before my class selection had taken place.
And just so we're all on the same page, my appointment was at 10 a.m. and my class selection was at 2 p.m.
Anywhoozle...
I get to the office right at ten, and they lady at the front desk, Christina is her name I think, was all bubbly and happy. She tells me to have a seat and they'll get me to the back rooms asap.
Forty-five minutes later, I am finally in that bendy, uncomfortable dentists chair. With that huge fucking light shining directly into the center of my eyes. And my dentist, God save me, is this black guy named Sean. Now...Sean is not just ANY ol' black guy. He's Tiger. Which means he almost as white as I am, and I'm transparent. And the goal was to get my porcelain tooth in where my plastic one sits. Yes. I have false teeth. Good thing I'm not trying to get any lady friends of mine to notice me.............(the dots mean I'm being facetious)
So he cut off the plastic one, and try's unsuccessfully to shove the newer, shinier one, into this metal rod that was drilled into my skull about two months ago.
But of course, THAT didn't work out. Like at all. Nigger.
So he's cutting the rod shorter so this new tooth will fit, but he was gonna have to cut on the sides of my gums. Awesome. But I hadn't the time. So I was like fuck it, don't give me any Novocain. It won't hurt THAT bad, and if you do indeed give me Novocain, I'll be as high as a kite all day.

I have never hurt so much...ever. Well actually...yes I have. Not the fucking point.
So I get the tooth on. Only it's neon white. Again, I'm glad I'm not trying to impress any ladies...................(you know the situation)

Sean likes to sing while operating. So while I was wringing in pain from a saw to the gums, he was preoccupied in singing "Paparazzi" by Lady Gaga. Fuck you Tiger Woods wanna be. I hope your wife beats you senseless tonight.

I've been dieting. Just so you all know. And all this week started off my "I won't consume like a monster ever again" campaign. And it's been pretty successful so far. I drink sixty-four ounces of water a day. And I eat...good food. And by "good," I mean fucking terrible. But whatever.

I'm gonna be all lean and stuff. Hell. Yus. You know you wanna piece. Maybe not now. But when I've slimmed!

Fuck you, Conservatives!!!

Menthol

So I spent some time with two of my closest friends from Southport today...and it never ceases to amaze me that whenever we do see each other, I become nostalgic.
I can't help remembering when I first met them waaaay back at Southport Middle School. We were definitely bad asses.
My hair was always in my eyes, and always dark and tangled from lack of sun and product. And I use to wear these black jeans that were all ripped and torn, with my Black Sabbath t-shirt that had a fiery cross on the back. I wore a Metallic wrist band on my left wrist, and a I <3 Carbs on the other, along with some black jelly bracelets.

I was such a fagot.

But I become much more "me" as I moved and soaked in Perry. I remember I hated Perry my freshman year...I hated the teachers, the people in my classes, the lunch ladies, everyone. It was pretty fucking ridiculous. Obviously, that is, nor will that ever be, the case. I love Perry. Or did...stupid graduation.

I also stopped by my work on the way to the Southport area to get a water. I walked out with a water...and some menthol swishers. Hell. Yus.
You know that weird numb feeling you get in your mouth when you suck on a mint?
It's like smoking a mint. Except you look way cooler. I'm kidding. I look like an idiot.

I'm getting better at this (twss).
I'll be back tomorrow for some SERIOUS rants.
Oh...I'm listening to Elton John right now.
B-b-b-Benny!

This is so new to me.

Wow.
So this is my first time being a blogger. I feel as if this will go far, or further than I'm expecting. I'm not much of a writer. Even after a year of going to Lyndon Wall's journalism class, I have still yet to conquer what makes me a poor writer.
Oh well.
I hope she reads this. I will be so happy if she picks up on my blogging adventure. Right now I'm just trying to get the feel of this, I feel kinda out of place.
I plan on blogging about what goes on with me during the course of my day(s).
Oh my...this is all chopped up.
I will post something newer later tonight, after my friend Dustin and I hang out. He likes to smoke all of my swisher sweets. I'll probably just buy him a pack of those mini-cigars they sell at my work.
Anyways...
I apologize the boring-ness of this, my very first blog. Just give me time. I'll get this.
I love you.