Pretty

Last Sunday, my entire family embarked on a splendid vacation on the other side of Florida. I've been home alone since then, and even though I'm running out of food, I'm having a good time. Most of these days I've spent with Kaita, which is exactly how I wanted to spend them. Leah actually dropped by once, and she ate all my grapes.

Today, Kaita is hanging out with a friend, and I have the day to myself. I decided to go get a job. She had actually recently informed me that Borders is hiring. I figured I had a pretty good shot of getting hired, since I worked for a year at Barnes&Noble. When asking for a job application, my routine is as follows:

Dress nice, ask for manager, give a firm handshake, say I'm trying to get money for college, get the paper, fill it out, hand it back in.

The whole process usually takes only 20 minutes or so, depending on the length of the application.

Anyway, I waltzed in the door and confidently strode up to the nearest pudgy, unkempt, spectacled salesperson (or, PUSS) and inquired about the location of the nearest shift manager. She looked me over and said, "In regards to what?".



I was shocked. How dare she? Damnit, if I want to see their manager, then go GET them! The worst part about it is she was definitely, DEFINITELY patronizing me. I responded, "In regards to a potential employment opportunity and the prerequisite application forms, miss.". She then said, "Oh, here.". She handed me a tiny little card with a web address on it. She didn't get her manager, and she didn't give me an application form. I hate online applications. I'm too charasmatic for e-applying. If I can't shake someone's hand, flash them the famous Eller smile, and charm them with my...charm, then I have no chance. I guess this just stems from my distrust of the Internet.

I was watching Iron Chef (Japan), and during the commercial break, I saw a Miller Lite beer commercial. After watching a bunch of Abercrombie-esque men pat each other's backs and laugh in slow motion, the commercial concluded with, "The difference is Drinkability".

...What? "Drinkability"? That's not even a word! It's made up! What does "Drinkability" even mean? How easy it is to drink? The calibur of the drink? The quality of the hops? Of course the difference is "Drinkability", because YOU'RE THE ONLY BEER COMPANY THAT MAKES UP WORDS.

*pant pant pant gasp wheeze pass out*

-J

PS- I know Kaita hates it when I blow things out of proportion, but it's all for comedic effect. I don't really care that much. I just needed something to write about. Sorry, Sugarbob.

Haze

Last night, at about 10:00pm, I was in bed, watching TV, waiting to fall asleep. My phone rings, and it's my old friend Matt Johnston. He told me he was in my driveway with Ian Daniels. I hurriedly grabbed my glasses and went out to meet them. They came inside, and we drank tea and talked for a couple hours. They smoked a couple cigarettes on my patio and at about 12:30am, they left.

Talking to them was stimulating, enlightening, horrifying, and stupefying. We talked about everything, from our stint at Barnes&Noble to college to drugs to God. The conversations were rich with laughs and memories. They told me I needed to go out and experience a lot of things before I get too old. I was hesitant, mostly because they probably meant drugs, but I appreciated the insight. Ian Daniels is something else. He's like a myth. The kid falls asleep standing up, then wakes up and reminisces about how one time he took Ecstasy laced with heroine. Ever since he graduated last year, I'd been wondering when I'd see him again. Then, like some book or movie, he shows up on my doorstep in the middle of the night. Anyway. It was really nice to talk about sports and (dare I say it?) philosophies with them. They invited me on a road trip to Canada. I don't know if it'll pan out, but it sounds interesting. Don't know if I'm brave enough, though...

I don't know when I'll see them again, but I hope it's soon. It's 10 in the morning. I'm groggy and still rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Last night is a memory, fragrant with nicotine. They left me with good advice, an idea of what college is like, an invitation to Canada, drug recommendations, cigarette ashes on my patio, and a crumpled tea bottle, courtesy of Ian.

Also, it was funny to hear Ian complain about how annoying Stevie Troulis was.

Bye!

-J

Redemption!

"Rrrrrrrgg!"

*boot*

"AAIIIEEEEEE!!"

Hey everyone! I'm back! Sorry about that guy. He won't be bothering us with his slimy pseodopods anytime soon.

Yesterday was my birthday. Kaita paid me a visit and bestowed upon me a gift of momentous proportions. And since she's the only one who reads this blog anymore, I can do this:

OMG THANX BABY FOR THE iPOD TUNER! I <3 U ;)!

But seriously, thanks a million. It works amazing. It's just what I needed.

And if by chance you aren't Kaita, why are you not calling me and apologizing for forgetting my birthday right now? Who knows when July 19th will come around again?!

See ya!

Oh, before I forget. I have a new email address. As of right now, it's the best way to keep in contact with me, since my phone is on the fritz and I don't have AIM or a Facebook. The address is:

ellerjc@gmail.com. Drop me a line or ten!

-J

YOU

Hey, hey, everybody! It's me! Lord Mycoplasma Pneumoniae! I hope you're enjoying your summer vacation as much as Mr. Eller here is enjoying his captivity! Anyway, I thought I'd write something enlightening, and since you're all a bunch of self-absorbed nitwits, I decided to write about, well, YOU.

You are a worthless waste of life, which is why — at this precise point in the time space continuum — you are reading this sentence. You think you should be doing something more productive, but for some reason, you aren't. You think your taste in music matters. You've seen every episode of Star Wars multiple times. You think playing video games makes you "alternative". You "spontaneously" quote Family Guy and Monty Python. You installed Linux on a partition because it seemed vaguely counter-cultural. Pretty much every human being you attended High School with remembers you only as, "that fat kid." You wear a fedora in public and believe this makes the world a more whimsical place. You went to a second-tier state college and joined the Roleplaying Club on the first day of orientation. You watch anime but insist you're not a fanboy. You quote internet memes at parties and then laugh alone, awkwardly. You own at least one cape which you wear "ironically" to comic conventions. You drive a 1990's Civic with crumbs on the floor and an "I roll 20's" bumper sticker. You write long posts in the Casual Encounters section of Craigslist but never get responses. You think people shouldn't judge you based on your meager accomplishments because you "could've done better if you tried". You hover around the edges of your social group, grasping at straws of approval. You get your ideas and arguments from blogs. You think playing Xbox Live makes you "competitive". You bought samurai swords with the money you saved bagging groceries, and you still aren't a ninja. You don't get invited, you tag along, which to you is a less offensive way to say "crash". You like to tell yourself you "only date nerds because they understand" you. You sit at your desk daydreaming about which X-Men power you want, while your peers are building the world in their image. Basically, you're horrible.

Thaaat's right, Eller. Drink it in. What's it feel like? Does it feel like...SUCK?

Bye!

-Lord Mycoplasma PneumoniAE

Takeover! HAHAHA!

Greetings, Fleshbags! It is I, Lord Mycoplasma Pneumoniae! I am one of the Germ Gods that your stupid friend Jordan C. Eller tried to bribe into not afflicting his girlfriend with my vile goodness! Well, guess what? Not only did I infect her, but I'm also taking over this blog! Weeheeheehee! As you can plainly see, your precious Eller is locked up nice and tight, just in case he tries to remove me from my new place of honor. Oh, don't look at me like that. You're not better than me. All you humans are the same! You think you're better than me! Well, you're not. Look at you, with all your Mybooks and Facety-Spaces, prancing around with your head full of eyeballs! You're all a bunch of sissys. Besides, that dufus offered his blog to me! Read his last stupid post! I'm not mean, I'm just on opportunist.

...Jeez, this guy is boring. All of his posts are just complaints about things he can't change! Well, I'm keeping Obsessio Depressio here locked up for quite awhile, so just sit back and enjoy the literary stylings of me!

And try to sneeze on someone for me today, will ya?

Join me next time when my guest will be Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, from the sinuses of a local migrant worker! Bye!

-Lord Mycoplasma Pneumoniae

Effigy

Kaita has a horrible sore throat, so I'm offering this blog as a sacrifice to the Germ Gods so they may be appeased and release her from their goopy, bacterium-like clutches. The Germ Gods can do anything they want with my Blogspot, just as long as as Kaita is spared from their wrath.

Don't get sick, Kaita!

Please!

-J

Obsolescence

Hey people.

I read a story in the news yesterday about how several Hispanic and African-American parents are suing a local community pool because of "racist comments" uttered by a couple of white folks. When a not-so-famous black athlete was reached for a statement, he called the situation "shocking and appalling" and he fully supported any legal action perpetrated by the beleaguered minority parents. My reaction to the story is best illustrated by this artist's rendering:

Needless to say, I was shocked, but not necessarily suprised. Why do people still not understand that racism exists? I mean, it's horrible, yeah, but so is expired milk. When milk expires, you don't scream, "AUGH! This is horrible! How can this be allowed to happen?!". You say, "Ew", throw it out and get some more. That's how racism should be treated. Don't try to make a statement by suing someone who is too ignorant and stupid to get the message in the first place. Just ignore it. I mean, sure, it's a great platform for people like that athlete to get their 15 minutes of fame by "sticking it to the man", but come on. We've been fighting racism for about 200 years now. This shouldn't be a new, terrifying subject. It's real freakin' life. Get over it. As long as there are two people left on the planet, one of them is going to hate the other one's guts. It's just how things go. Racists are idiots, but I gotta say I'm not too fond of the people who exploit themselves as victims of traumatic slander, either. As far as I'm concerned, both of these types of people are attention whores, and need to get over themselves.

You know what I've never understood?

This. When did horrible spelling equal great marketing? Personally, I don't want to buy any fire-protection merchandise from a company who as far as I can tell is run by a 1st-grader, or at least someone that has a 1st-grade understanding of the English language. This is not cute. It's quite gross, actually. I'm trying to think of a couple other companies with similar issues, but nothing is coming to mind. I know they're out there, though.

English is actually a pretty tough language. I was watching CSI: Miami a couple weeks ago, and realized how weird and sometimes stupid English actually is. Sigh, now that I think about it, English is really just a conglomeration of a bunch of other languages, so my point might end up being moot. ANYWAY. There's a character on CSI: Miami named "Calleigh Duquense". It's pronouced "Calley Doocayne". How weird is that? That fictional character has more unnecessary letters in her name than half the population of England (what kinda dope spells "color" and "humor" like "colour" and "humour"? Honestly!). Ugh. I don't know where this was supposed to go, so I'll stop. Basically, I think communicating is dumb. The end!

Oof.

-J

Stand By

Sorry for not writing recently. I'm re-evaluating myself. I'm re-thinking things. I don't feel comfortable writing while I'm mentally preoccupied, so I'm just going to wait until I iron myself out.

I am looking forward to college at FGCU. I'm looking forward to new people. New things, new ideas, new conversations. Most importantly, though, I'm looking forward to having my own dorm with a door I can lock. I'm tired of this cage of routines and obligations and falsities.

I hope everyone's having a satisfying, fulfilling summer. More power to ya!

I need a job.

-J