Things I Hate.

School and work consume my life. Remember the days when it was you, your Legos, and 16 hours of unhindered imagination? Having a free 10 minutes doesn't invigorate me like the days of my youth, and instead of thinking up cool fictions, I think about all the things I hate about the world:

1.) Pens that smudge.

2.) Feet. Specifically toes.

3.) People who still complain about prices at Starbucks.

4.) The Bible Belt.

5.) Girls who wear ironically big glasses.

6.) Tough looking guys with girl voices.

7.) The movie 'K19: The Widowmaker.'

8.) My wage.

9.) Heavy breathers.

10.) Most of my exgirlfriends. I hated your meat sauce Tracy.

11.) The lack of Bobby Darin appreciation.

12.) Bad drivers who don't pay attention and still have the nerve to give me the finger.

13.) People who own trucks.

14.) Moral/social/familial obligations.

15.) Professors who have wet dreams about Cambridge.

16.) Fat girls who assume they have good personalities because they are fat.

17.) Parents who swear in front of their kids.

18.) Girlfriends/boyfriends who don't say anything when their partner is around.

19.) Antarctica.

20.) Brett Ratner. Cyclopscide.

21.) Nerds who complain about comic book movies because "that's not what happened in issue #12."

22.) Wasted time.

23.) People whose lives revolve around drinking as soon as they turn 21.

24.) Episode 1, 2, and 3 of Star Wars. From my perspective those movies suck dick.

25.) College students.

26.) People who are better looking than I am.

27.) My handwriting sometimes.

28.) People who don't share my vocabulary.

29.) People who bash hip hop for no good reasons.

30.) The people who are so open minded that they don't even need to hear your opinion. *cough Chelsea cough cough*.

31.) Phone calls.

32.) Bad spelling.

33.) People who have a very general opinion about something that they think is unique. i.e: Books are always better than movies.

34.) The fact that my xbox, ipod, and Wii died in the same day.

35.) Humorless dishonesty.

36.) Parents who care more about their dog than their kid.

On the definition of Misery...

"I have learned now that while those who speak about one's miseries usually hurt, those who keep silence hurt more." ~C.S. Lewis
Hey Louie, shut the hell up.

1.) This is coming from the person who had the very creative idea of having a central figure in his story die for the mistakes of others. Gee, that's creative. Good thing I don't live in a Christianized culture or else  I would know you're a plagiarist, you plagiarist.

2.) I bet not a lot of people know what you look like, but you're bald, and I know, and now everyone reading this knows.

3.) Let's talk about your story "Till We Have Faces." You got a character line up of Cupid, Pysche, all her sisters....wow, this is starting to sound like a tale we heard some 1700 hundred years before your bald ass came along, called Cupid and Psyche written down in Apuleius' "The Golden Ass." Did i mention you're a filthy plagiarist?

4.) You're middle name is Staples. Staples is a mediocre office supplies store with more credentials than you.

5.) Way to convert to Anglicanism. The religion you feel so strongly about was founded by a guy who kept cutting his wives' heads off. Yes, make your noble stand here, Louie, and write more seven crappy books about it.

6.) We covered the part where you keep plagiarizing your work right? Okay good.

7.) Your struggle as an author is enduring. Who would have known that an British-Irish man of high blood with all the connections one needs to the prestigious Oxford University would have become as respected and well read as you? Next to you, W.E.B. Du Bois looks a trust fund baby.

8.) You're bald. Get over it.

9.) The British Army discharged you because of homesickness. Not a lot more needs to be said about that.

10.) Isn't it just convenient that you died on the same day as John F. Kennedy? No one expects the dead.

Conclusion: I hate academic authors that write mediocre stories that get humped to death by professors and idiots. C.S. Lewis, I'll give you this, you knew how to sell it, but you won't catch me reading part seven of Narnia, even if LeVar Burton thinks I should.

Intermission: Fizz Mizz

Between the dirges of Proletariat part 1 and 2, we find ourselves at the intermission. It's a time to reflect on simple miseries, like a physics lecture that trails on two hours too long. Since it's a lecture hall, one of the rooms with descending rows, I find a spot at the very back, in the highest row. So I'm perched like a gargoyle, moving my one stony hand to solve for delta, and the other to record my misery:

1.) Since there are no hot girls in this class, I plan on getting an A.

2.) Oh I get it. The band is called Queen because Freddy Mercury was gay.

3.) If the initial position is 8 and the end position is 15, then conclusively, physics will not help me get laid.

4.) I'd like to wake up one day and not feel like a jackass.

5.) There are so many germs in this classroom.

6.) Why has Digimon never been called out for copying Pokemon? Uhh...I mean, football rules.

7.) In this lecture hall, there are about 250 students, but since my shool is full of nerds, there are probably only 15 lives in here.

8.) I'm glad I decided to sit next to the bro squad. Topic of discussion today: Trucks.

9.) The alpha bro is looking up sick wheelies on Youtube. Spectacular.

10.) As soon as I wrote that, one of his minions said, "Yo, dude, sick wheelie."

11.) Dry humping serves no purpose.

12.) I wish my favorite fruit wasn't a banana.

14.) The ugliest name in human history is Dwayne. Sorry Mr. Johnson.

15.) I find that the more time I spend watching cartoons, the less tolerable I am with unanimated people.

16.) The two headed girl actually exists. That should be its own category on Pornhub.

17.) I helped the Alpha Bro with an equation. I think I've been accepted into their fold. My time has finally come.

18.) Why do my muscles hurt if I never work out?

19.) The professor is showing unnecessary cleavage.

20.) Someone just coughed up the cat, the kitchen sink, and all ten of Art Garfunkel's unheard solo albums.

21.) There's a real pimply kid two rows up whose face has perfected the aesthetic quality of wabi-sabi.

22.) I haven't had a good cry in a while.

23.) After an hour and a half, the professor's cleavage has become very necessary.

Proletariat: part 1.

People tell me "at least you have a job." But those are usually people who make more money than me. It would mean something different coming from a bum, or someone who just got fired, but when Willy Wallstreet stinks his pinky up at me, adorned with a gold ring from the Harvard class of 78, I bite my lip, wanting to say all of this:

1.) The Wage
There was a point in my occupational tenure that I found myself dealing with a ratty customer, two hot pots of Giuseppe balancing like San Te in the first of 36 chambers (no one will understand this reference), and my size eleven Nike was trying to kick the right combination of buttons to shoot an espresso. The chaos was like Guerinca, so call me a Cubist cow, cause I was in the middle of it. But in the haze, sometime before the Mango Ceylon tea spilled onto my funnies, there was my coworker, eating a sandwich, facing the large windows that overlook the plaza. Then I heard him fart and I remember thinking to myself, "we get paid the same."

2.) "Goodbye my looooooooove!"
Beauty is a double edged sword. It's nice to see sweet faced women come through line and clip clop with high heels, like little Aphrodites, to my register. If I had the know how, I'd build pantheons to revere some of that booty. See, I'd chase after some of those women, I'd even fake an interest in snail reproduction if I had to, just to extend the length of a conversation. But inevitably, there is someone else in line, usually a pimply one type, with a square head, muttering about prices just to end up buying half a stick of gum. And meanwhile, I look passed that dude's greasy hair, his paisley scarf, and his mispronunciation of the word 'latte,' to watch the Giuseppe Zanotti's of my goddess walk away.

3.) Stress Dreams
The one-two. Closing then opening. The working man's nightmare. Literally. When I work a ten hour shift on Monday night with the almighty schedule demanding my presence at seven the next morning, I stress. The nap in between can be a quick escape from labor, or it can be the worst nightmare of your life. I had a dream the other night where there were five minutes left before we closed the store, and the Emperor of Japan (who was depicted in my dream as the guy who played Katsumoto in the Last Samurai) ordered 72 cups of espresso. The rest of my dream, I was spilling drinks under the cruel eye of the Mikado. Then my alarm went off and I went to work.

4.) The Tips

We are technically not allowed to get tips, but it was a slow day, and I got creative and put this sign in our cup. People liked it and threw in a few more pennies than usual, but then my General Manager came over, gave it a once over look. I was hoping he would be charmed enough to let it slide, and I got a feeling in my stomach a failure kid must have when he has the opportunity to impress his dad. The GM took the sign out of the cup and said "No more jokes for today." That day I walked about with a paper Lincoln.

5.) "If you have time to lean, you have time to clean."
That is the most unmotivating thing I have ever heard. When the store winds down, and I've swept the shine off of the floor, I am not going to keep sweeping. Downtime is downtime, and I use it to work on MISERY. The way I figure, minimum wage, minimum work. I used to go the extra mile to check inventory, bake cookies, and wipe the counters with a grease monkey's swag, but then I didn't get a raise, so if either way, I'm getting paid a pauper's sum, I'd rather grab a take out bag and record my misery.

Proletariat: part 2 soon.

It is not okay to...

...draw on the desks in the library. Sad thing is, a student had to tell me that what I was doing was inappropriate. I figured the desk could use a Super Sayan Goku sketch. Oh well, the only reason I'm here is to work on my paper, and since investing the C- effort into this essay, I haven't been recording my thoughts. But MISERY persists in other, more obvious forms. Here they are:

1.) My Spectacles

The Bane

I've had these since sophomore year of high school. They weren't cool back then, and they are not cool now. Let's ignore the glaring detail that one of the lenses is not where it should be, but look at the sheer size of the frames. Hard to tell from the pic, but know that these glasses take up about 90 percent of my face. And since the lens won't stay put, I've MacGyver'd a tea bag string where the screw should be. Doesn't help much but it holds the lens in place until I get shocked and move really fast. So in other words, if there was a fire at my apartment, I'd be dead, because if I run, my lens falls out, I can't see and I burn to death. I hate these things. I hate these things.

2.) My Picture Perfect ID

MSP

I'm not gonna say I'm a good looking guy, but this picture does not do me justice. This is an ID necessary to shop at one of the local department stores, so when I requested one, the tart behind the counters says "3, 2, 1," and snaps a Dorothea Lange. Am I a serial killer? This looks like the only snapshot the FBI has of a bank robber responsible for a series of thefts along the East Coast. And what am I smiling about? Why do I looked like I just dove into a pool of cocaine? The glare you see on the picture isn't from my camera, and honestly, I don't know where it's from. It just haunts the photo like the hazy image of Ronald Reagan above the tomb of the Unknown Soldier. This picture sums up my misery.

3.) Amox-a-Something

Remnants of Strep

Since having strep, I've had to take these pills to kill the last of the germs. I'm not a picky pill popper. I don't need water or a life coach to swallow one. But what really lays eggs in my skin is that I can't drink alcohol until I finish the entire bottle. Now I'm not a big drinker. I'll chug if I want to, but it's not on the top of my list. But since having to go on medication, wouldn't you know, a million situations have come up where alcohol would have been perfect. Meet a girl at a bar? Nope. Accept free booze from a friend? Can't do that. How about we take shots for every stupid joke Pinhead makes in Hellraiser IV? Well, I'll be the son of a nun. No booze until it's done. And by that time, my good luck will have passed away.

4.) Movies About Submarines

Das Ass

If ever you find yourself strewn across the couch, gagging on mucus, and shouting lamentations out your ass, there is no greater kick to the man that is down than when he watches a sub movie. There are few things a sick man can do, and watching movies is something that can alleviate the strain of a sore throat. But sub movies come in terrible packages, disguised as entertainment. Two words to sum it all up: Boring boring. You are on a god forsaken submarine, how many time can we see the operating valve depressurize? Even the torpedo room is dull. The torpedo room. The torpedo room. Weapons aren't supposed to be boring. Weapons are fast, destructive, and they explode, and no weapon more so than the torpedo, so why is it still so boring? I'll tell you why. No one cares why Liam Neeson is discussing the current state of political affairs in the Soviet Bloc. Let's shoot some missiles. And on rare occasions, when one submarine happens to come across an enemy sub, it is the slowest combat sequence you'll ever see. It's just a lot of ambient sounds over crew members talking nervously into radios. Lots of shots of subs maneuvering, which is like watching two beached whales try to hump. My god, submarine movies suck. I'd send them to hell if the devil didn't know better.

5.) Hangnail
Forgo the picture here, cause hangnails are gross. I got one because I bite my finger nails like they were made out of cotton candy. Freud says I have an oral fixation because I was neglected as a child. I think I just live in constant paranoia because I'm usually doing something I shouldn't be, like sticking my hand in my pants or grabbing pies off windowsills.

103.9...

...was my temperature all weekend. I was planning on a romance or two, I'd even settle for a misadventure with a Tsingtao up my sleeve, but the Strep Monster kicked me in the throat before any of those fun things happened. So I was bedridden at my parents house all weekend, recording a new kind of misery:


-Me and Dad:
 1.) I told Dad about a weird dream I had. It involved the Space Shuttle and a King sized bed. Dad said it was because I was sleeping in the room next to the piano.

2.) There was a good hour and a half when we held back tears watching August Rush.

3.) I had to explain why I was sleeping naked.

4.) Dad buried his head in his hands when I laughed telling the doctor "It hurts to swallow."

5.) At the end of Close Encounters both me and Dad said "The mothership looks like a boob."

6.) The car ride to the after hours office is a thirty minute drive. All a father and son could manage for that long time alone was a forced conversation about frames.

7.) Dad asked me if I have seen the shotgun. Not like have I ever seen. He meant have I seen it since he can't find it anymore. You can not lose shotguns. Or babies.

8.) I shook Dad's hand when he made me a bagel

9.) I caught my Dad watching Ghost Whisperer.

10.) There's no way to be sure, but I think me and Dad planned a shopping day.

Me and Mom:
1.) Mom kept trying to spoon feed me honey.

2.) There was a documentary on PBS about how baby spiders eat their mother. With a mouthful of pudding I said "That's what they get for having kids!" and Mom said, "It'll be the last meal they'll have since they probably can't cook for themselves."

3.) I had  to explain why I was sleeping naked again.

4.) Awkwardly, I sidestepped any inquiries as to why my Sundays remain churchless.

5.) Mom let me try on a pair of her gloves. She said "Don't say I never did anything for you."

6.) Mom likes to ask me very personal questions while I am coughing up mucus. Then she says I'm ignoring her.

7.) Me and Mom share an interest in prison shows.

8.) Movies me and Mom watched: Pride and Prejudice, Pride and Prejudice, The Little Mermaid, Hellraiser 4, Baby Geniuses. Hey, at least I got Little Mermaid in there.

9.) Mom sat me down and very solemnly told me she no longer likes Mel Gibson.

10.) Mom said I remind her of J.M. Barrie, who has been dead since 1937.

Other things I do during class...

A lot of people have been asking me if all I do in class is sit in the back and brood over my notebook, writing down all my miserable thoughts. As picturesque as that would be, unfortunately I subjugate my computer and notepad to more than that. As you'll see and read below, there's lots I do to avoid paying attention. So in this special edition of MISERY, I display the other things I do during class:

1.) Sexually Frustrated Oragami.

Notice the border done with Microsoft Paint.

They say necessity is the mother of invention, and when a cute Thai girl was sitting next to me one fateful American Politics class, I thought the only way to her heart was by stereotyping her entire culture. I picked up origami as a conversation starter. Turns out she was into Soccer. And she was Italian. So as I spun my wheels with her, I got better and better at origami, so now whenever the clock ticks by, I think of sweet Maria, pray I don't get blue ball, and hopefully I won't get a paper cut.


2.) Practice Writing with my left hand

I'm going a little crazy with the borders. And I have a weird hand.

The alphabet. Over and over again with my left hand. (I'm right handed for you lolipops out there.) Thing is, I've been doing this for two years and it's not getting better. Wonder what I'm doing wrong.


3.) Make wanted posters for people who never existed.

I don't know why I do this.

4.) Aggregates
I'm actually proud of the way these turned out. In the long run, these go nowhere, like most of my beliefs on religion, but if you have a few minutes to burn and some beer, drink up and get lost in the patterns. Props to Microsoft Paint.

"Ass"

"Cold Room"

"Sort of looks like a lot of toilets"

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