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Ya know, I've always wondered what beer tasted like before the advent of refrigeration. Like, I've seen the ole' country westerns where the dirty varmint are chillin' in the saloon drinking beer, and I'm thinking to myself, "I wonder if their beer tastes skunked." Think about it. What was keeping the beer warm in those days? Also, how did they distinguish different brands of beer before the age of commercialism.

I mean, commercials are cool and all, but I'm so sick of those whack-ass Geico commercials with their stupid cavemen, their stupid gecko, and their stupid Michael Jackson song. Actually, I think it'd be kinda rad to own a gecko. In the past, I owned iguanas, frogs, and anoles, and my brother had a skink. I like iguanas the most, and the best is when you heat up a metal sewing pin and poke'em in the eye and watch them scurry about. Take that, you... you... you non-mammal!! Actually, the best is when you don't give them enough iodine in their diet, and they die of thyroid conditions like goiters.

Anyway, people often complain that light beer tastes like water, but maybe it was different back in the day. I mean, nutritionists always like talking about the plight of nutrition in today's fruits and vegetables, about how their color is not so vivid and how they lack the same amount of essential vitamins and minerals as fifty years ago, so maybe light beer is the same way. I can picture all six of you teetotalers in the world laughing at me, but that's okay because people don't laugh at me, they laugh with me. Tee hee hee, tee hee hee.

If you're wondering why it's been so long since my last entry, it's because the computers in my house have been wonky. Now, you're probably asking yourself, "Well, golly gee, JTusch2009, why don't you use your computer?" Well, I don't use my computer because its hard drive has been on the fritz for several months. For a while, I used my mom's computer, and now it's on life support. People around me hypothesized that I killed both computers by watching porn, but I don't even really watch porn. When I need to get a lil' excited, I use the power of my imagination, and I have quite an imagination.

I am so tired right now, it's a fight just to keep my eyes open. Well, relatively open. Oh, I guess you didn't see that, did you??  Wait.  Who am I even talking to?

So basically, last night I found out how ungay I am by having my first gay experience.  No, don't worry.  JTusch2009 didn't delve into the wonderful world of homosexuality, but someone tried to get him to.  I've been part of a theatre show, "The Awesome 80s Prom," and the cast members frequent a gay bar in Schenectady.  This one dude would not stop hitting on me.  He told me how cute I was, which really made me want to say something about my eyebrows.  He also touched me... a lot.  Dude, he fuckin' grabbed my nuts and licked the back of my hand.  That shit ain't kosher on the flip side, the back side, or any side.

Well, after last night's experience, I'm really glad I'm not a vegetarian.  For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, read one of my recent posts.

I wish I had another burrito right now.  Never do the main food groups come together as nicely as they do in a burrito.  Well, omelettes can give burritos a pretty good run for their money.  I really enjoy omelettes, but in the "what have you done for me lately?" world we live in, burritos are currently at the top of my list.

Back to "The Awesome 80s Prom," whoever thought I'd end up doing any sort of acting work?  Especially theatrical work, which encompasses many of my least favorite pastimes.  Let's see.  I can't sing (I don't even really listen to music), I can't dance, I don't like Oriental people, and I hate the 80s.  

Who's down for some naked basketball later?

You!!
Who me??
Yes You!!
Couldn't Be!!
Then Who??

Haha, I love duck duck goose.  It's the shit.  Kinda like when you got diarrhea, but it doesn't hurt when it comes out.  So satsifyin' man.

It's 2 A.M. You know what that means, right? I need to breeeeaaaathe... jusssstttt breeeeaaaathe. Wow, whatever happened to Anna Nalick? It's like she was one of those people who only had one good song, like one of those one-hit wonders, kinda like The Wonders.

Well, normally when it comes to purchasing consumer electornics, I do staunch research before pulling the trigger. This was one of those times where I just couldn't force myself to press my finger down on the mouse and buy the damn thing. You're probably asking yourself, "Well golly gee, JTusch2009. What kind of product caused you such indecision, especially after doing all that hard work?"

Well, it was a pencil sharpener. Not a manual one like California Republic Stationers Two-Step KUM Automatic Long Point Sharpener, nor was it a battery operated one like my beloved Panasonic KP-4A. It was a Panasonic, but it was an electric sharpener. Man, I haven't used an electric sharpener in years. My last one was this crappy-ass Bostitch that doesn't sharpen pencils correctly. It struggles to carve the wood evenly, and it doesn't have an automatic stop to let you know when you can take the pencil out.

That's why I'm so hesitant to buy an electronic sharpener, even if it is a highly-reputed one like the Panasonic KP380-BK. It gets glowing reviews, but I don't know...

First, it's supposedly very quiet, but honestly, what does that mean, and is that even a good thing? Think about it. Ted Bundy was quiet, and he turned out to be a serial killer.

Second, it supposedly uses powerful, infinitely-sharp steel blades, but so did Rurouni Kenshin, and he mercilessly killed thousands in the Japanese Revolution before realizing the error of his ways and becoming a wandering swordsman looking to atone for his sins.

Third, it has a large shavings recepticle, but so did my great uncle, and now he lives in a nursing home, a veritable vegetable who's always causing trouble for the staff.

The point is this. I'm going to do a little bit more research until I'm fully confident in my decision. Now, I know what you're thinking. "Well golly gee, JTusch2009, Michael Jordan always said you miss 100% of the shots you don't take." First of all, you're thinking of Wayne Gretzky, not Michael Jordan. Second of all, Wayne Gretzky got that saying from his dad. Listen, all I'm trying to say is that I understand that you need to take some risks in life--that you can't make an omelette without breaking some eggs. But hey, no one dies when you make an omelette.

If I buy this pencil sharpener and it's not what I expect, don't come back blaming me if something terrible happens.

Oh yes, that's right. It's time for another one of JTusch's famous lists. Today we're going to look at my favorite football video games. Sure, this list will probably be dominated by my main man, John Madden, but hey, when you're voted sexiest man alive, you're bound to have blind fanaticism. Erm, anyway, on with the list!!

1. ESPN NFL 2K5 (PS2/XBox)
2. NCAA Football 2004 (PS2/XBox/GC)
3. Madden NFL 2005 (PS2/XBox/GC)
4. Tecmo Super Bowl (NES)
5. NCAA Football 2006 (PS2/XBox)
6. NFL Gameday 97 (PS)
7. Madden NFL 2003 (PS2/XBox/GC)
8. NFL Blitz (PS/N64/Arcade)
9. NFL Fever (PC)
10. Madden NFL 2001 (PS/N64)

To give some context to this list, I was born in 1984, and my parents had an Atari 2600. I currently own an XBox 360, a PlayStation 3, and a DS. So this includes old-school, to the console wars of the early 90s, to the current generation.

YOU KNOW YOU'RE A HARDCORE GAMER (or a loser) IF...

1. You've skipped a prom/funeral/important sporting event/any significant rite of passage of yours or someone else to play a video game.
2. The name Gary Gygax rings a bell.
3. You beat Contra without the code.
4. You play new Sonic the Hedgehog games for the sake of brand loyalty.
5. You play Gears of War for the plot.
6. Jumpman!!
7. Mega Man!!
8. You believe broken gameplay passes for legitimate difficulty.
9. You feel threatened by Jack Thompson.
10. You've put a speed run on YouTube.
11. You bought E.T. for the 2600 and contributed to the video game crash.
12. You understand that Final Fantasy is NEVER the FINAL fantasy.
13. You bought a Neo Geo, Turbo GFX16, nGage, Virtual Boy, 3DO, Jaguar, or any other fringe system.
14. You can get Crysis to run at 30 fps.
15. You waited patiently for the Panasonic M2.
16. You still read EGM.
17. You import games to break American street date.
18. You somehow beat Friday the 13th for the NES.
19. You've beaten an NES game with the Power Glove.
20. Your social life revolves around midnight release parties.
21. When you first bought World of Warcraft, YOU were the consumer, but my, how the tables have turned.
22. You installed a video game system in your car (kind of a stretch, since one of my friends put an XBox in his Crown vic, and HE ONLY INSTALLED IT TO PLAY MUSIC!!)
23. You feel bad about what happened to Jeff Gerstmann.
24. Your best friend/enemy is someone from a video game forum who you've never met.
25. You've beaten an open-ended game.
26. You read those God-awful Valiant Super Mario Bros. comics.
27. You thought Nintendo Power was the shit.
28. You've created a nostalgia trip retro video game level in LittleBigPlanet.
29. You put same-generation consoles next to each other to compare graphics and sound differences.
30. You didn't buy a PS3 simply because it has Blu-Ray.

Well, I finally have a new job. Actually, I've been doing it for a week now, but I haven't really posted in my LiveJournal to tell you idiots about it.

I deliver the Times Union newspaper. Sure it's menial work, but the scary thing is that I actually kinda like it. It incorporates two of my favorite activities--writing in pencil and making lists. If you guys know anything about me, it's how much I love makin' lists. Why, early on in my LiveJournal career when I was a mere JTusch2005, lists comprised the bulk of my entries. The only thing about the job that sucks is the cold weather, which is exacerbated by having to drive with my windows open. For as much as you could say about my red car, at least it had power windows (which didn't work by the way). So I guess it's a push on that end.

Well, let's make a list. Today's list is the top 10 things I hate about myself (in no particular order).

1. My eyebrows (actually a love-hate relationship)
2. My inability to find true love
3. My lack of self-motivation
4. My ego
5. My sleeping habits
6. My obsessive tendencies
7. My ability to make other people laugh
8. My high level of intelligence
9. My semi-functional Oriental cock
10. My prurience

Man, looking at this list, I really hate my life. It just makes me want to eat my mom's shit and die.

It's okay though. I don't need to defend myself. Yo! Why you people always gotta be messin' wit my kool-aid!?

Ok, so this is the way I see things...

For the past six days, my butt has itched like crazy. I don't know what's been going on, but I really want it to stop. The only good thing that's come of this situation is that I've discovered the best feeling in the world.

So here's what I do. I have a shower massage head in my bathroom. One of the settings is a powerful trio of jet blasts of high octane pressure. It's fuckin' powerful as hell. Yeah, baby! Put the pedal to the metal! JTusch2009 is gettin' jiggy wit' it! Na-na-na-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na. Anyway, I pull the head off and direct it right into my butt crack. Man, it's such a stimulatin' feelin'. It elevates my heart rate and shit.

So, the next question I need to naturally ask myself is one that I often ask myself:

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN????

Next post, we'll take a look at my penmanship.

Dear Mr. Henshaw,

Jay Tusch is in the house!!

Of course he is.  That's where he always is.

Well, sometimes I wonder whether or not I'm truly lactose intolerant.  The thing is, you can't really call it an intolerance.  Sure, milk bothers my stomach, but I can still drink it.  You have to look at it this way.  The human stomach was not designed to digest a cow's milk.  Our stomachs are designed to digest raw, unprocessed fruits and vegetables and meat.  Actually, it's not even really designed for meat.  That's why meat needs to be prepared.

If Curious George was a cat, he'd be out of all nine lives.

If I were a cat, I'd cuddle up into my mom's breasts and lick her neck while she slept.

If I were a dog, I'd piss all over the house.

If I were a chinchilla, I'd kill myself.

If I were a snake, I'd kill the chinchilla.

If I were a Pikachu, I'd help Ash Ketchum defeat the eight gym leaders en route to becoming a Pokemon Master.

If I was a relgious zealot, I'd be inclined to proclaim stupid things like "Jesus is my homeboy" or "I can't believe it's not butter!"  Think about it.  Black people believe Jesus was black.  Chinese people believe Jesus was a chink.  And homosexuals believe Jesus would actually accept them.

As mankind continues its quest to discover the one true religion, I realize this: I'm so glad college is over.  I know it's been three years since I graduated, but I finally got that off my chest.  The worst part about college was having to clean out the lint screen before AND after doing laundry.  I was the only one considerate enough to clean the lint screen for the next person.  I mean, I understand that the true measure of a man is how he tackles adversity, but come on.  Give a guy a break.  Getting back up on that horse is a tough task knowing that others are throwing unnecessary roadb blocks in my path.

I think I'll have a sweet potato with dinner sometime this year.

Last night, I had a dream that I was married.... to two different girls.  Here I sit, JTusch2009, without a girlfriend, yet I dream the American dream of polygamy.

I dreamt I was married to a very dear friend of mine from college and a girl who I barely even knew in high school.  Hell, I didn't even really like her.  So what does it all mean?

Well, I'm not really sure.  But based on Freudian psychology, I've come to conclusion this (and yes, that is proper English according to one woman I know): Man, I am seriously messed up in the head.

It's okay though.  Life goes on.

P.S. If you think you can determine a better conclusion, IM me at JLids12 or email me at jtusch@gmail.com.

Oh, wow, it's been quite a while since I last posted.  Well, first things first.  Let me catch everyone up to speed on what interesting things have taken place in the last month of my life.

.....

Well, now that we've got that settled, let's take a look at what exciting ventures lie in wait for JTusch2008.

.....

Well, now that we've got that settled, let's look at the present.

People say my life is going nowhere fast.  I say they're wrong.  Well, not completely wrong.  It's going nowhere, but it's not going fast at all.  Yep, when I really think about it, these last three months have seemed like an eternity.  Well, if you don't know what I've been doing for the past 90 days, all you have to do is look at how many needle marks I have on my veins, how many teardrop stains have permanently branded themselves into my bedroom carpet, and how much poison seems to have mysteriously disappeared from underneath my sink.

Let's make a list of all the video games I've beaten in the past 6-and-a-half years.

1) Monster Rancher 3
2) Monster Rancher Advance
3) Chrono Trigger
4) Harvest Moon: Friends of Mineral Town
5) WWE Raw vs. Smackdown 2006
6) Grand Theft Auto III
7) The Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker
8) Gears of War
9) Final Fantasy VII
10) Final Fantasy X
11) Final Fantasy I
12) Valkyria Chronicles
13) Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots
14) Mega Man I
15) Mega Man II
16) Mega Man III
17) Mega Man IV
18) Mega Man V
19) Mega Man VI
20) Mega Man 7 (after Mega Man VI, Capcom started using numbers to denote the series to avoid confusion with the "X" series)
21) Mega Man 8
22) Mega Man 9
23) New Super Mario Bros.
24) Halo 3
25) Sonic the Hedgehog 2
26) Super Mario Bros. 3
27) The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
28) Tony Hawk Pro Skater 4
29) Tony Hawk Underground 2
30) Tonk Hawk Project 8
31) Goof Troop
32) Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney
33) Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney: Justice For All
34) Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney: Trials and Tribulations
35) Apollo Justice Ace Attorney

And I think that might be it.  If anyone can think of more, please let me know.

How did Broccoli Rob get its name?  Was it first grown by some guy named Rob?  Or, did some guy rob the stuff from someone else and name it after the way it was acquired?  What about Rob Lowe?  Whatever happened to that guy?

It kinda reminds me of a few other questions.  Do you think vegetarians argue about the depth of their vegetarianism?  Do homosexuals argue about who's "the gayer"?  Just because society tends to segregate these freaks and weirdos into rigidly homogenized classifications, it doesn't mean their can't be some infighting.  Gay people can have arguments, just like normal people.

I've seen one vegetarian make fun of another because he drank milk.  He was like, "Haha!  You're not a true vegan.  You're just one of those little bitch lacto-vegetarians.  Death to smoochy!!"

Similarly, I've also seen a homo make fun of another.  He said, "Hey, use your tongue when you're down there, you fuckin' faggot!!  Death to Smoochy!!"

Okay, so I guess I was right.  Vegetarians are gay.  Actually, if you really think about it, vegetarianism is a great cover-up for homosexuality, because meat is a commonly-used metaphor for cock.

Tomorrow, me and King Bowser are gonna kidnap Princess Toadstool and drown her in a sea of creamy mushroom sauce.  How ironic.  Killed by the juices of her own subjects. 

Oh, Midol!  How come you're not working on my stomach cramps??

Ya know, the first thing I ask myself every day after waking up is "How much of an impact did the Spice Girls really have on the pop music industry?"  By my estimation, quite a large and lasting one.  I remember during my 7th grade academic bee, they musta played "Wannabe" at least a dozen times.  You know a song has to be really good to play it that much.  Well, I'm not really sure if they played it a baker's dozen or a farmer's dozen, but those are just semantics.  The point is, they were hot, for a while.  Until... it all came crashing down.

Today on JTusch2008's Behind the Music, we take an in-depth look at the most storied quintet in the history of female pop artists.  Speaking of quintets, what about the Jackson Five?  Couldn't they give the Spice Girls a run for their money in terms of global renown.  They could, but we're only speaking of female quintets.  Michael Jackson was the only girl in his little group of thugs.

And exactly why were they thugs?  Probably because they were black.  The Jackson Five chopped up my aunt's car, and they stole my mom's innocence.  I always wondered where it went.  I looked for it under the bed last week, but all I found was a broken condom filled with hate and the burnt remains of my long lost evil twin.

Wait a minute?

I have an evil twin?  What is this?  Guatemalica beer?

We'll be back after these messages.

posted 8/18/05.

1. Always protect the brim. As long as the brim is intact, the condition of the hat will always appear better than it actually is.

2. Always keep hats in a spot that's off the floor (coat rack, hat rack, dresser), so that you don't have a chance of stepping on it in the dark or something.

3. Guys should never wear pink hats. I'm just finally beginning to accept that pink is popular now with guys and other types of metrosexual fools. Still, a pink hat is too much.

4. Girls should never wear brown hats. Girls don't poop, so why should they wear a hat that resembles its color?

5. If you buy a flexfit or any type of hat with an elastic sweatband, make sure the hat is mostly cotton. It retains its shape much better than the wool ones, and they're a lot more comfortable to wear.

6. Customize your hats. Do something that makes them yours. Write on them, let other people write on them, put stickers on them, whatever.

7. Don't wear fitted mesh hats. These things are gay beyond gay.

8. Zephyrs are much better fitted hats than New Eras.

9. Don't wear fitted hats unless you plan on wearing them backwards. The point of a fitted hat is to wear it backwards. You can do it without showing off your pimply forehead.

10. You should always rip the button off of an unstructured hat.

11. Don't buy hats from the GAP. Those things are just bad.

12. Traditional style caps (Gatsbies, snap-backs, mesh) have more personality than the cookie cutter velcro styles of today.

13. Make sure that your hat matches your wardrobe. If you like to wear red clothes, don't buy an orange hat. Common sense dictates this.

14. Typically, the darker the hat, the better it looks.

15. Don't wear a hat to the gym that you might wear out. Sweaty caps are just unappealing to some people.

16. Don't buy brushed cotton hats. They just don't work.

17. Under any circumstances, never wear a visor rally-style backwards.

18. Beanies are cool. Invest in one.

19. Don't wear your hat all the time; let your head breathe once in a while.

20. Don't use those stupid ball cap buddies in the wash. Just wash your hats free, and put it on immediately afterwards so it retains its shape. And never dry your hats. Then, you're just asking to lose cash, money, hoes.

21. Have one main hat that you can wear at anytime.

22. If a girl is wearing her hat real low, she probably isn't wearing makeup.

23. Make sure the crown of your cap doesn't look too unnaturally big.

expanded 02/15/06

24. Let your hats wear out through time. Hats that are pre-broken-in defeat the purpose of wearing a hat.

25. Keep a stash of extras in case you have parties where people like to steal things.

26. Don't ever throw up in your hat (I did this once, and the next morning, I couldn't find it).

27. NEVER EVER tumble dry your hats. UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.

28. Don't just wear a hat because you're bald. Wear a hat because you want to. People will see right through someone who wears hats for a superficial reason. Bald people are very easy to spot.

29. Don't do the baseball cap/bandana combo. It even looks dumb on black people.

30. Don't wear hats for good luck. A hat is just another thing you can lose, ruin, or have stolen from you.

31. Wearing a hat will not cure/cause cancer.

32. Wearing a hat will, however, make you a better person.

33. If your sweat changes the color of your hat, immediately discard it, as there's something wrong with the dye in the hat.

expanded on 07/08/07

34. Only buy hats you actually plan on wearing. I hate when people collect things just for the sake of having them. Hats were meant to be displayed on your head, not your bookshelf.

35. Swim with your hat on. It feels amazing.

36. If a big black man wants to shit in your hat, offer to let him shit in your mouth instead. No point in ruining a good hat.

37. Try to get away with taking pictures with your hat on.

38. Your main hat should be a fairly neutral color (black, white, navy, grey)

39. Don't buy a particular hat just because it's "in style." Wear it because it's something you'd want to wear. I'm looking at you, Von Dutch boys.

40. Babar approves of all hats, but he does not approve of Kylie Minogue believing in you.

41. I partially rescind on my claims that all hats from the GAP suck. They sell great hats for toddlers at Baby GAP.

42. Don't wear a crown in public. Only the Mushroom King and Princess Peach Toadstool can get way with this, and that's only because they're the benevolent leaders of the fair inhabitants of the Mushroom Kingdom. ("Why is he yelling 'cock-a-doodle-do?!?' He's a mushroom. He should be yelling 'mush!'")

43. The brim of a hat is a good place for storing ABC (already been chewed) gum.

44. If you plan on becoming a summer camp counselor, baseball caps are a necessity.

45. Don't use staples to fix tears in your hat. Just bite the bullet and buy a new hat.

46. It's okay to cry when your hat dies. I HAVE EMOTION!!!

expanded on 11/11/08

47. Don't use your hats as advertising space.  It just gets really ugly, really quickly.

48. Use the inside of the sweatband to hid various small objects, like dimebags.

49. If your house is on fire, don't run back in to save your hat.  Save your cat instead.  Karma goes a long way.  Remember, every time you masturbate, God kills a kitten.

50. Driving with a hat on WILL attract cops.

51. Hats are always a good impulse buy.

52. Red hats are the only lucky ones.

53. If you want to be more like Harry Potter, don't wear a hat.  Instead, carve a lightning shape in your forehead and yell, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!!"

54. Let your hat help you express your feelings.  If you're feeling dull, wear it low.  If you're happy, wear it up.  This rule is especially true if you have trouble showing your emotions.

55. A well placed hat can cover up poorly groomed eyebrows.

 

The more I go to weddings, the more I realize that there's very little hope for my future.  I'm just not meant to be happy, ever.  But enough about that.  I'm about to tell you a story that's a lot like my penis: short and unsatisfying.

Originally posted September 25, 2007

My nip nips are as hard as motherfuckin' rocks, and Ashley Tisdale is an idiot.<<
Well, I like Ashley Tisdale a little more than I used to, but my nipples are still hard.  They say hard nipples are a sign of virility.  Maybe they really meant sterility.

Ya know, it's weird.  For as much as I play it, I hardly ever mention my exploits at the claw grabber machine in my LiveJournal.  Now that I've mentioned it, let me tell you what I really wanted to talk about. 

When we were younger, I'm sure we all put things in our mouths that we shouldn't have.  Some ate paste, some ate rocks, some quarters.  Some even tried to drink the chemicals under the sink.  Some ate paint chips, some ate refrigerator magnets (which bind up the intestines), and some ate their dad's condoms.  Point is, kids like to consume anything they can get their hands on.

See, I used to eat tape.  Any kind.  Scotch tape, duct tape, electrical tape, you name it.  I always thought athletic tape tasted the best.  You're probably saying to yourself, "Well, golly gee, JTusch2008, don't vilify yourself.  Tape definitely isn't the worst thing for ya."

Well, that's all hunky dory.  The only problem is, I didn't start developing and practicing this habit until my junior year of high school.  By then, I started thinking about what college I wanted to go to.  I knew I would never be accepted by my collegiate brethren if my breath smelled like adhesives (even if they were a name brand).  So, to kick the habit, I started chewing tobacco instead, and I've been happy ever since.

I used to own an iguana as a kid.  I didn't know iguanas were herbivores.  I thought they ate bugs.  At one point, I had an anole, which ate crickets, and I figured iguanas would be similar, seeing that they were both green.  So, I would slather molasses on my ass and lie down in the forbidden forest, hoping I could attract bugs.  It worked, and even though it didn't turn out quite as pleasantly as I'd hoped, at least someone was attracted to me.

Still, do you know what it's like to have to wrap a wad of gum around your finger so you can stick it up your sphincter and fish out fire ants?  Lemme tell ya, it's awkward.  Almost as awkward as watching my mom try to socialize.

Oh that's right.  I went there.
 

Ya know, something very suspicious is occuring right now, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it.  It's my duty as a law abiding citizen.  People always say that... well, I can't remember what I was going to say.  It doesn't really matter anyway.  All I know is that I have to fulfil one simple request, and I plan on doing it.

So yeah, I sprayed Pam on our chinchilla's feet the other day.  It was so funny.  He would try to hop up onto his ledge and slip off.  "EEK!" he would squeak.  I wish that chinchilla would die.  After all, our family hasn't felt the sting of death in a while, so maybe it's time.  If nothing else, it would add some excitement to our lives.

I feel like I'm finally tapping into my feminine side after 24 years of being all man.  The other day, I watched Forrest Gump with AllSportAsh, and I cried during the scene where Forrest plays ping poing against the Chinaman.  It was so sad witnessing the Chinese being dominated by an American in the sport they invented.

So, it's true.  I'm a bitch now.  In fact, I'm thinking of changing my middle name from Erik to Estrogen.  At least I'll be able to keep the same initials.

Just call me the All-American American, Jason Estrogen Tusch.

Well, I'm in Bob's bedroom right now on his computer, posting this entry.  In about an hour, JTusch2008 goes to his third wedding ever.  For the second wedding in a row, I'm dateless.  Well, there is a slight caveat to that.  The last wedding I went to, I was not a spectator, but a paid employee--paid $50 to film for six hours.  This time, I didn't actually know I was going to a wedding until last night.  Still, who's going to dance with Jay Tusch?

Ya know, I've always maintained that I'm a lot like Terrell Owens.  I've got pretty good hands, but I've never managed to catch true love.  Neither can my mom or my brother.  At least our household has one person in a steady relationship, Babar the Elephant.  Ya know, ever since Babar started going out with his girlfriend, his life has been so different.  He never leaves my bedroom, and he always makes me sleep in my brother's room at night.  In some ways, that's good beacuse I get more time for video gaes.  Sometimes, I feel like his girlfriend is running his life because I know that if he wasn't with her, he would love to spend time with me.  I wish I never won her out of the claw.

I have a tickle in my throat right now.  How come any other kind of tickle makes you laugh, but a tickle in your throat just ends up irritating you?

Eventually, you'll all get your comeuppance.  Wait and see.

Orchids only need to be watered once a month to survive?  Historically speaking, I've never been too keen on flora, which is the scientific word for plant life (thanks Cousin Freddie).  Still, these newly acquired facts might elicit a life altering change.

People have always told me that I'm too stubborn, that I refuse to change.  However, if you inspect the word "stubborn" closely, you'll realize it's broken down into three words.  1) Stub, which is the piece of ticket you keep once the usher validates it.  b) Born, which is what happens to a child after its mother has been pregnant for nine months, or in the case of a brontosaurus, four months.

So maybe I'm not the one who's stubborn.  Maybe, instead of me not changing enough, everyone else changes too much.  Have you ever thought of that?  Ugh, you disgust me.

Yesterday was the first time in a long time that I started and finished my day with a glass of orange juice.  The only difference was that my day-finishing glass contained vodka.

I used to drink a lot of orange juice, and I mean A LOT.  I'm talking like three to four gallons per week.  My consumption got so bad, my sweat was turning my clothes orange.  The sweatband on one of my favorite hats of all-time--my green Abercrombie and Fitch hat--turned orange within weeks of buying it.  It got so bad that my doctor, Dr. Wong, recommended that I stop drinking it.  he feared I would induce ulcers.  Well, once I stopped drinking orange juice, things returned to normal.  I stopped staining my clothes orange, my pee returned to its normal color, my chronic heartburn subsided, and I no longer found myself sexually attracted to my brother.

Don't worry, Ashley Jacques.  You'll get your lap dance... eventually.  I won't even make you pay for it.  I don't like making money.  It reminds me of that time that I got a check for doing work, and I got mad about it.  Wow, what a dark day that was.

Ya know, if there was one illness that I would like to get in my lifetime, it'd be salmonella.  I'm sure I'll eventually be leaving myself susceptible to it someday, considering I handle raw meat and eggs, then lick my hands to clean them. 

Just like, is it really that dangerous to eat clams?  I mean, sure, "clam" can be used as slang for a woman's vagina--from which you could contract an STD--but we're not really talking about that.  Clams didn't do anything to us.  In fact, they grace us with beautiful pearls.  The only problem is, the pearls only appreciate in value as you gain more experience points and levels from fighting randomly-encountered monsters.  Ahh!!!  I hate the idea of level scaling!!!

Shadow hide you.

I just drank 16 oz. of Latham water.  It was good.  Really good.  I love the taste of chlorine.  It reminds me of drinking the water from the little kiddie pool at the Colonie Town Park.  Man, that water sure is salty.  Kinda yellowish too.

I don't know what Babar's been thinking lately.  He hasn't been talking to me.  I talk and talk and talk, and all he does is sit there, not saying a word, not even blinking.  It's not like I've been participating in reprehensible criminal acts.  In fact, we know the only true reprehensible act in this world is raping baby birds with cinammon flavored toothpicks.  Babar, I love you like no other man has loved another elephant.  Well, except for that bitch on the National Geographic Channel.  Then again, she's not a man.

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?  Answer?  One bushel.

I was going to jerk off earlier, but I ate Sour Patch Kids instead.

Until next time, bitches.

Ya know, I haven't added to my "Life in a Nutshell" series in a long time.  Rather than building upon part 4, I'm going to be posting previous entries and providing commentary on them.  What a radical, postmodern-type idea, right?  I'll be doing a reflection of my past reflections.  It's like that weird phenomena, where you have a mirror behind you and in front of you, and you can infinite reflections.

But enough is enough.  I'm here to do two things: post LiveJournal entries and chew bubble gum... and I'm all out of bubble gum.

So, what we're going to do right now is see how much I've changed in the past three years that I've been posting in this thing.  Let's start by making a list of my some of my more frequent topics of discussion.  BTW (which stands for "by the way" for all you world wide interweb shorthand hard-ons), these are in no particular order.

1) Pro Wrestling
2) John Madden
3) Hats
4) Harvest Moon
5) Sweet Potatoes
6) Feces
7) Softcore Porn
8) Pedophilia
9) Writing Utensils
10) Alcohol

I'm sure there are more frequent topics that I've talked about, but from just perusing through three years of entries, these 10 seem repeated pretty often.

One thing I used to do ad nauseum was make top 10 lists, like I just did.  So we're going to look at some of my past lists that I've produced.

Originally posted November 19, 2006

Hey, it's been a while since I've done a top 10 list, and this one will be a good one. The subject of this list is one that is near and dear to my hat. And now, without further ado, Jay Tusch's top 10 all-time favorite hats.

1) Thermo King-Royal Blue Thermo King Cap
2) Original Red Hat-Red UNLV Rebels Franchise Closer
3) Sweatstain-Green Abercrombie and Fitch Hat that turned orange when I was still sweating different colors from drinking too much orange juice
4) Wolfpac-Black NC State Wolfpack Zephyr DS
5) Red Hat II-Red Flexfit Hat that said "Red Hat"
6) Grogan-Red, White, and Blue Retro New England Patriots Mesh Hat
7) Mickey Mouse-Plaid University of Michigan Cap
8) Race Track-Off-red Saratoga Race Course Hat
9) CTrigger-Black Flexfit Hat that said "CTrigger"
10) Boiler-Blue Abercrombie and Fitch Hat with a "2" Patch

Okay, so that was posted almost three full years ago now, my top ten favorite hats of all-time.  Let's see if that list has changed.  Not only that, but I'll be telling you the fate of each hat.

NEW TOP 10 LIST OF ALL-TIME FAVORITE HATS (in order)

1) Original Red Hat - Red UNLV Rebels Franchise Closer - still going strong after seven long years
2) Thermo King - Royal Blue Thermal King Cap - lost it my junior year of college
3) Red Hat II - Red Flexfit Hat that said "Red Hat" - let my friend Josh borrow it my freshman year of college, and he gave it to a girl who moved to New Jersey
4) Mickey Mouse - Plaid University of Michigan Cap - called it the "Mickey Mouse" because everyone always asked me if the M stood for Mickey Mouse; lost it at the end of 8th grade
5) Gold's Gym - Black Gold's Gym Twill Cap - still have it; would have ranked it higher, but it recently got me in a little bit of trouble; we'll just refer to the situation as "false advertising"
6) CTrigger - Black Flexfit Chrono Trigger Hat - named after my favorite all-time video game; can't remember how I lost it, but I'm almost certain I lost it
7) Sweatstain - Green Abercrombie and Fitch Cap - sweating in it caused the sweatband to turn orange very quickly; threw it out with my last mass exodus of hats
8) Wolfpac - Black NC State Wolfpac Zephyr DS - threw up in the hat after drinking too much; someone else thought it was disgusting, so they threw it out
9) CRONO'S TIME!! - Black Flexfit Guitar Hero Band Cap - let Zeshan borrow it
10) Grogan - Red, White, and Blue New England Patriots Retro Mesh Cap - lost it at a flag football game my sophomore year of college.

Well, only two hats in the past 3 years have managed to break the top ten, those being the Gold's Gym hat and the CRONO'S TIME!! hat.  Well, this is the part I really hate -- the reflection part -- so I think I'm going to go until my next entry.
 

Ya know, I'll always contest that working at Gold's Gym Latham stifled my creativity for two years, but now that I haven't been working for almost three weeks now, I've realized something.  Damn it, I just cut my gums on a piece of Count Chocula!  Anyway, back to the story.  I have a really bad memory.  People say that I have no wit, no improvisational skills, that I can't just pull something out of my head.  Am I methodical?  Yes, but not methodical like Hitler.  I'm not planning a mass extermination of the Jews or something.  I do have wit, and I can improvise, but sometimes my memory is so bad that I forget I'm creative.  Hey, "creative" is only one letter off from "creatine."  Go fig, go fig.

I took creatine a couple times when I was like, 14 years old.  My friend had some pills, and hey!  I've never been one to turn down free pills.  I forget how he told me they worked though.  If he had said the same thing today that he said about them then, I probably wouldn't have taken them.  Is it because I'm more mature?  Is it because I'm smarter?  The world may never know.  Well, Mister Owl knows, but he only knows how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.

In a few days, I'm going to go on a slight nostalgia trip and repost some old entries, complete with commentary and everything.  We'll see how much I've changed in three years.  Knowing me, who changes at a metamorphic rock's pace and is as stubborn as non-fibrous feces, I'm going to guess not very much.

You can't make me change!!  I hate Canada, and I hate you!!

My cute neighbor is packing her car as I watch her from my bedroom window.  If that's not some kinda crazy stalker shit, then I don't know what is.

Ya know, I never really tried being creepy before.  I guess I just kinda am.  I mean, I don't really have those bruised eyesockets that most creeps have, nor do I get a boner when I see little girls take off their shirts.  The truth lies somewhere between the middle.

Ooh, she just walked inside her house.  Now's my chance to go into her car and smell her seats, hopefully catching the remnants of old wet farts that she may have spewed at some point.  The nicest farts come from people who are lactose intolerant and eat dairy.  Ahhhhh!!

Well, last night I enjoyed one of my old favorite pastimes: watching anime porn and crying myself to sleep.  See, the thing about cartoons is that the animator can make the guy's penis as big as he wants.  I like to live vicariously through the male characters, since I have a small dick.  It's the opposite of the Luck of the Irish.  It's the Curse of the Orient.

Awhile back, I posted an entry about toe fungus.  I've never had it, but my dad used to.  When I was younger, my favorite color was yellow, so I thought it was kinda rad that his toenails were yellow.  It took me a bit of time to realize that, well, toenail fungus is not a desirable trait.

To follow up on one of my last entries, Siamese twins are called Siamese twins because the first prominent pair hailed from that country.  I mean, I guess it makes sense, but so does non-Hodgkins lymphoma, but that doesn't necessarily make it right.

If you hit the Shift button on your keyboard five times, it gives you the option to turn on sticky keys.  I don't really know what sticky keys are.  Well, my keys are already kinda sticky, but for a different reason.

Until next time, chickenfuckers.

I think Ashley Jacques gave me strep throat.  Oh, she'll always say that she doesn't have it, but I think she's just covering up her insecurities as a person.  But, ya know, people often do that.  They don't want you think they have strange disease, so they'll often change the subject when someone merely hints that they might have one.  Don't forget, epidemiology is the study of disease, not the epidermis.

Someone has been stealing my tins lately.  I have my suspicions, but I'm not ready to let them be known quite yet.

I think I'm going to start wearing a bra again.  My breasts are getting too big for my body, and they seem to require some support.  Not child support, though, seeing as I'm not a child.  Not that I'd rely on child support anyway, since that was my dad's responsibility, and he wasn't reliable with the checks.  Well, not that he could be reliable anymore, since he's dead.

I need to put some sheets on my bed.  It's been three months since I've slept with sheets, but it's okay, because me and Babar are still having some pretty good nights.  I took some glamour shots of him yesterday.  I'm thinking of sending some of them in to Elephant Weekly, but I can't because that magazine doesn't exist.  It will someday, though.  I'll see to it that it does.
 

Well, I like apples, and I like potato chips, but you know what I haven't had in a really long time?  Apple chips.  Man, those things are so satsifyin'.  Now I know why parents love beating their kids.

Today, while I was chilliln' at Gold's Gym Latham, I brought up a very interesting point.  Why is a twin-sized bed called a twin-size when it's only meant for one person?  I  mean, I guess Siamese twins could fit on a twin-sized matress, but they don't really have much a choice now, do they?  On that note, why are Siamese twins called Siamese twins?  Were the first conjoined twins born in Siam?  I mean, I remember watching The King and I in music class back in the day (which was a Wednesday), but I don't remember anyone in the film being attached to another.  Well, the King's children were attached to Anna, but not in the literal sense.

For the past couple days, I've been drinking my water out of an old apple cider carton.  I originally thought it was 1 liter, so I was afraid I wasn't getting sufficient water intake.  However, today I learned that the carton is actually 1.89 liters, or close to a half-gallon, so while everything else in my life is fucked up, at least I'm still hydrating myself properly.

AHH, THE HIPPO!!!!

Ok, so it's been over a week since my last post, but ya know, I only write in my LiveJournal when something interesting happens and I feel the need to express it to the world.  Now, you're probably saying to yourself, "Well, golly gee, JTusch2008, nothing interesting ever happens to you."  Yes, that is somewhat true, but I've found ways of circumventing that problem.

I take a normal situation that happened to me throughout a particular day, and I create a compelling story to fit the situation.  After all, isn't that what writers do?  It isn't their job to tell you, it's their job to show you through the written word.  I'm a pretty funny guy; at least, I'd like to think so.

And that's the end of my story.

JLids12: bob
Greesey18: yes
JLids12: sup
JLids12: bob have u been shilling my livejournal to others
Greesey18: i'm not familliar with the word "shilling"
JLids12: it means to promote
Greesey18: well, i guess i have been
JLids12: bob you're such a hustler
Greesey18: why do you think that
JLids12: idk... bob, i have a question
JLids12: do u want to make a made-up language with me?  kinda like zeshan and zach and zeshan's best friend steve all have
Greesey18: i guess so
JLids12: ok, first we need nicknames
JLids12: how do u feel about boobaliscious like brittany calls u
JLids12: and u can call me tuschy wushy
Greesey18: that's fine
JLids12: we'll refer to each other as stooties.  a stootie is a combination between a stud and a cutie
Greesey18: is this language inspired by brittney?
JLids12: no
Greesey18: brittany*
JLids12: only your nickname
JLids12: are u doing homework?
Greesey18: yes
JLids12: cool
JLids12: ur new nickname will be physics bob
JLids12: when people ask you what it means, you can be like, "well, it's simple really.  force=mass x velocity.  i'm the biggest, the fastest, and most powerful bob on the planet"
JLids12: your raw energy can only be matched by jesus... and the power rangers
JLids12: i just punched myself in the face to see if could do the one-inch punch
JLids12: it hurt
Greesey18: there's no circumstance where a force would be equal to mass times velocity.. you're an idiot
JLids12: why?
Greesey18: aren't you familar with the newtonian view of classical mechanics?
JLids12: who isnt
Greesey18: you, apparently
Greesey18: Newton claims that a force on an object is equal to the objects mass times the acceleration of the object. (f=ma)
JLids12: accelaration doesnt equal velocity?
Greesey18: no
JLids12: i guess velocity would be maximum?
Greesey18: no, that makes no sense at all
JLids12: you know what else doesnt make sense?  your attitude
Greesey18: hey what size football cleat do you wear?
JLids12: 9.5
JLids12: do u need a pair?
Greesey18: damn, 9.5 is too small
JLids12: what do u wear?
Greesey18: how many pairs do you have?
JLids12: 3
Greesey18: my dads friend needs some, not anything new, just an old junky pair
JLids12: do u think issac newton and johnny appleseed were co-horts?
Greesey18: what's a co-hort?
JLids12: like a partner in crime
Greesey18: i guess their biographies cross at some point, but I don't know of any crimes either of them committed
JLids12: well johnny appleseed grew the magical apples that allowed issac newton to demonstrate the laws of gravity
JLids12: they cheated... rather than using random apples in his sample for testing gravity, he was using apples that were grown in a controlled environment
JLids12: therefore, its safe to say that, in a real world situation, the laws of gravity are not laws, but merely unfailed experiments
JLids12: good point, right?
Greesey18: you present a good argument
JLids12: thank you
Greesey18: a whole chunk of scientific history just went out the door
JLids12: bob, this conversation is going in the livejournal... well, except the part about brittany
JLids12: peace, i'm out
Greesey18: ok

Well, you may have noticed that my last post ended in the middle of my sentence.  My boss stepped into the gym, and I couldn't let him know that I was hoppin' and boppin' on the world wide interweb, so I posted what I had.  I could try to push on today with my previous post, but that's not how I operate.  Actually, it's kinda good that I didn't continue posting, since I was about to talk about my father, which never ends positively.

My LiveJournal posts are established through stream-of-consciousness writing, so I type with the ebb and flow of the Dr. Grip Center of Gravity, meaning my posts are bold and smooth.  Well, maybe not bold, at least not as bold as a couple's first child, but you probably get my drift.

Well, either way, yesterday I was talking about the different steps I can take to change myself as a person.  The real question is, do I want to change?  The other question is, why am I asking myself questions?  Am I procrastinating the process of giving myself an answer by taking the time to ask myself questions?  The world may never know.

I'm wearing red socks right now.  I just got done with a flag football game, and they're part of my uniform.  I showered after, but I put on the same clothes, since I'm going to work out soon.  You're probably asking yourself, "Well, golly gee, JTusch2008, why did you shower if you're just gonna get the dirty back?"   The answer is this: I'm taking every opportunity I can to use my new anti-bacterial Dial Soap.  It's Mountain Fresh Scent.  Normally, I like unscented cleaning products, since you probably know that I think scents are just one bad smell to mask another.  However, the soap was a gift from Scott's Bald Friend Mike, and beggars can't be choosers, because choosy moms choose Jif.  Except for my mom, that anorexic little bitch.  Haha, just kidding!  Or maybe I'm not.

Ashley Jacques is standing behind me.  I think she died.  She got hit in the thumb with a football.  She'll be alright though.... hopefully.

So, the other day, I was thinking about what types of improvements JTusch2008 has seen over JTusch2007, and what types of things we can expect from JTusch2009 and beyond.  Well, so far I've come up with a few things.  I'm a little bit smarter, but not by much.  You gotta understand, these people aren't working with an open textbook here.  I can only become incrementally more intelligent as more years pass.  I can only build upon the foundation of knowledge that was established many years ago by my father,

Gunpei Yokoi, creator of the Nintendo Game Boy, would have been 67 years old this week.  He is known for his huge successes in handheld gaming, and he also helped develop blockbuster titles like Kid Icarus and Metroid.  Of course, he's also very well known for his unmitigated disaster of a creation known as the Virtual Boy (which I owned, by the way), but that one little blemish shouldn't cloud years of greatness.

Or Should it?

Let's look at this realistically.

The truth is this: the man died when he was hit by a car.  Although sad, it's also comical.  Who wouldn't laugh after witnessing a Japanese man getting blasted into the air by another vehicle while screaming, "AHhhh!  This is rearry, rearry horriber."?

So, you people understand that Orientals replace L's with R's, right?  There is no "L" sound in their language.  I feel bad for them.  How can a man express his love for another man if he can't say "love?"  Makes ya want to gouge out your eyes with cinammon flavored toothpicks.  I did that to a bird once.  I guess he didn't see that coming, did he?

Ya know, there's three kinds of people in this world: People who make things happen, people who let things happen to them, and people who watch things happen to other people.  The question you should ask yourself is "How aggressive are you in making things happen for yourself?"

Well, just as I finished solving the mystery of the boneless wings, a new one popped up.  What the hell is the difference between a tank top and an "a-shirt?"  Not only that, but who named the a-shirt the a-shirt?

Well tomorrow, the investigation starts.  Care to join me?

Word on the street is that I have to make posts in this thing every day now.  Well, I have a couple things to say about that.

First, I want to go on the record and say that I'm not gay.

Second, Bob is an idiot.

Third, tomorrow I'm going to shave all my body hair.  JTusch2008 is gonna be a stud again.  Hoo-RAH!!

Originally posted November 8, 2005

     I couldn’t believe it. Klein’s All Sports was in the final stages of the liquidation process, and its doors would soon close for the last time. I wanted to cry. Klein’s was my store. If everything that meant something to me were represented in a pie, I would say a good quarter of it was stolen by “the man” that day. I’ll bet that piece tasted really good too. Pumpkin pie is my favorite.
     How could something like this happen? Klein’s was at one time one of the strongest chains of sporting goods stores in upstate New York. They ruled the area with an iron fist, just like Hulk Hogan ruled the WWE from 1984 to 1992. Dino Bravo was never the same again.
     Actually, Klein’s at its strongest is better compared to Joseph Stalin during his time as the czar of Russia. I remember hearing the stories about Klein’s when it was in the infant days of its generation of sporting goods dominance. Andy Klein, who is now the only surviving member of the family’s regime, was a charismatic young man who led the surnamed store with innovative ideas that revolutionized the world of retail. He did all of this while his father was rubbing his hands together and laughing maniacally.
     Andy would stop at nothing to build his evil father’s budding empire, and his workers—almost brainwashed—would be there by his side the same way drones follow their queen bee into battle against the evil spider tribes. His ideas would spawn the great purges of the sporting goods industry. His “meet or beat” policies set new standards for customer satisfaction. Klein was the first to use economics, demographics, and geography as factors in determining how much of each product should be distributed in different markets. The weaker stores in the industry were quickly flushed out.
     How could a man with his ruthlessness, intelligence, and aptitude for business watch his entire monopoly crumble? Whoever said that hindsight is 20/20 is an idiot. There was no way this could have been fixed.

The Final Day

     “So, you’re going back to school tomorrow, huh?” asked Reese.
     “Yeah,” I answered. I put on my navy blue Klein’s polo and walked onto the sales floor.
     Reese was a fat girl with an awesome personality. I guess you could say that she fulfilled the stereotype. You know, the one that says fat girls need to have an alluring personality because they aren’t. Reese’s sister, Emmy, worked at Klein’s too. Reese and Emmy weren’t the only employees with sibling ties. My brother got me hired, and he got hired because he knew an employee. There were three other sibling pairs, and there was even a pair of cousins. Nepotism ran rampant at Klein’s. In fact, before I started working there, Klein’s employed the entire starting backfield of a local high school football team. They were all fired for stealing. People always use the cliché, “This company is like a family to me,” but, in essence, we really were a family.

     “So,” said Reese, interrupting my silent reflections, “are you sad that we’re closing down?”
     “Not really,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll find a place to work that’s better than this dump.”
     Who was I kidding? I’d never found a better place before Klein’s, and I almost found a better place after Klein’s, but I ruined that opportunity, just like I ruin every other. That was the overnight sports summer camp where I got fired for headbutting a camper. Hey, the kid asked me to do it.
     My supervisor, Chris, saw me talking with Reese as he walked by. “Hey, Jay. Could you get to work?” He looked at Reese. “And, Reese? Go work register for a while.”
     “Why do I have to work register?”
     “Because,” Chris said, pointing at me, “I don’t want him near any form of currency today.” Reese walked away grimly, like she was being sentenced to the electric chair.
     I think I’m the only person in the history of retail to be permanently banned from using the register... twice. I hated ringing up people at the register. I think I unconsciously screwed up the numbers so I would get kicked off. At least register duty wasn’t as bad as washing dishes at American Cafe. That job only lasted four days.
     I went towards the shoe wall, and I saw an elderly black woman holding a white Nike Air Force 1. Air Force 1s are known as “Uptowns” in the ghetto.
     “May I help you?” I asked her.
     “Yes. Could I get this shoe in a size five?”
     “Of course,” I said. As I started to walk to the back room, I turned around to the old lady. “Hey, did you know that Klein’s is closing?”
     “Yes, I’ve heard,” she said. “My family has been devastated by the news. I feel like our lives have lost their purpose. We’ve decided that, in order to find our new selves, we must travel across the country, helping people solve their problems in a healthy, non-violent manner.”
     “That’s great,” I said. “You know, the summer before I went into college, I went on a Christian mission in Africa. That experience changed me for the better. When I was in high school, I thought that the most important things in life were money, cars, and women. Now, I realize that it’s my duty to convert children of various, incorrect religions to Christianity.”
     Obviously, the woman had other concerns on her mind, because the next thing she said was, “Do you know why you’re closing?”
     Before I tell you what I said to her, let me just tell you that when I tell a story to someone, there’s a buildup. It builds up from being completely honest and realistic to being completely farfetched with great hyperbole and sensational whoppers.
     “Well, you see,” I said, beginning my story, “the owner of our chain, Andy Klein, is in a little bit of financial trouble (the truth). He’s a huge sports gambler (the first lie, but not something that’s completely out of the ordinary, especially for people with disposable income). He lost a lot of money, so one day, he put it all on the line.” The woman opened her mouth in dismay, but she knew what I was talking about. “Yep, he bet the company’s net worth to cover his debts” (the whopper). The woman was aghast.
     “Oh my god.”
     “You know what the worst thing is?” I asked. “He still owes money. He found out his company wasn’t worth quite as much as he thought (probably true). So, anyway, all the stores are shutting down now.”
Okay, so lying like that is unprofessional. But, hey! The word of the day at Klein’s was never professionalism. I should have been fired on multiple occasions, but my managers and supervisors were as incompetent at being employers as I was at being an employee.
     In fact, my proudest moment came when, at a company meeting, we were told that our store was the most unprofessional store in the chain, and I was considered the store’s most unprofessional employee. By default, that made me the most unprofessional employee out of the 22 stores in the chain. My argument was that I was actually the opposite; I thought I was the top worker in the store. I didn’t argue with customers, I knew the products pretty well, I didn’t take days off, and not once did I arrive later than five minutes early. My reputation for being unprofessional came from my penchant for making fun of the customers, watching TV during work, eating on the sales floor, participating in somersaulting contests, refusing to run the register, yelling at the people who would hit the punching bags (“Don’t hit the damn bags, you idiot!”), never tucking in my shirt, wearing shorts after shorts season, making faces at the customers’ kids, wearing my hat on the sales floor, chewing gum and tobacco on the sales floor, and there are probably more, but those are the major ones. Wow. I guess I was unprofessional. I even popped my collar a couple times. At least I only consumed alcohol one time during work. I know there were employees who did that at least five or six times. I also never told a customer to just “Give me the shoes, Biatch!” Our good pal, Britt, said that. That girl’s got some messed up teeth.

Our Last, Great Moment

     As the day progressed, the mood of the employees became more despondent. They were too upset to give their normal, one-hundred percent Klein’s effort. Not that I ever did, but this was ridiculous.
     “C’mon, people!” I yelled. “What’s wrong with us today?” I walked over to the corner where we sold second-rate ski equipment. Our resident goth, Angela Castracane, and SUNY Albany football player, Mark Sheehan, were sharing a warm embrace, silently weeping. “Look,” I said, “I know we’re all sad that we’re closing. But we’ve only got a few more hours left. Andy Klein might see us as his most unprofessional employees in his company, but he also knows that this store has been the flagship of the chain for years.” The tone of my voice began to fill with emotion that I hadn’t shown in years. “So stand up!” I finally exalted, “and let’s give this place everything we’ve got! Let our final mark on this place be a proud one!”
     After a few seconds, Mark stood up and approached me. The fire in his eyes was one that I’d only seen when he was tackling someone on the gridiron. “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled. His voice emanated a deep bass, which practically shook the ground. “This sucks, and you know it! There’s no one in here. I’m not gonna waste my time, working my ass off for this shit! I have to go to the gym, so get out of my way, or I’ll knock the slants out of your eyes and bite your friggin’ face off!” He growled like the juicehead that he is and stormed off.
     Angela the Goth gave me a deathly stare. I eyed her carefully, particularly noting her greasy, dripping, jet black hair. “Curse you, Jay Tusch,” she hissed. “Curse you...” Whoosh! She vanished in a puff of smoke.
     I stood there in stunned silence. My shirt was untucked. It was January, and I was still wearing shorts. I had a backwards baseball cap on my head. I smacked my gum loudly. Mark was right. There were only three hours left. The store was closing down, and there was nothing I could do about it. Our blunt lack of professionalism was one of the many reasons we had to close down in the first place.
     Hey, what could I do? Liquidation was our fate. You can’t fight fate. You’ll only waste yourself trying, and I wasn’t going to waste my life on trying. I was going to waste my life on alcohol.

 

Originally posted January 11, 2006

Hey, if you've never read this before, this was something I wrote last year. It is a profile I wrote about myself, from my brother's perspective.

        Imagine that you’ve just climbed Mt. Everest. The well-documented journey up the infamous trail has left bodies battered, bruised, and, in some cases, dead. Frostbitten extremities aren’t uncommon, and sometimes amputation may be necessary to remove decayed fingers and toes.
        Last year, my brother, Jay Tusch, conquered Mt. Everest, and he stood on top of the 29,000 foot mountain, the highest man on the planet.  Although triumphant, he too had succumbed to the woes of frostbite. Just days after Jay had scaled the impossible peak, he was rushed to the hospital to treat his frozen digits.
        I feared that he would have to have two of his fingers removed. However, his spirits couldn’t have been higher.  “Don’t worry, little brother,” he said with a heartwarming smile on his face, “my body will get me through this terrible ordeal. I’ve taken on werewolves, vampires, eight evil robots, terrorists, and the Soprano family, yet my body is still intact.”
        I fought back tears as I listened to his positive words; I couldn’t imagine how his morale could have been so high in a situation that would have cast a spell of negativity on mere mortals.
        Of course, my brother was right, as he always is. With just a rubber band and two paper clips, Jay managed to rig a device that miraculously healed his right hand (he later used that same device to capture world-renowned supervillain, Saddam Hussein). He would again be able to throw the football, play video games, cook gourmet meals, and jerk off.
        That scenario characterizes my brother to a T—caring, strong-willed, resourceful, and persistent. Those are the words that best describe Jay Tusch.

        I remember when we worked at Klein’s All-Sports together, a five year-old boy was picking on Meg McGann, one of our employees. I’ll admit it; Meg is an easy target for jokes, but my brother caught the boy making fun of her, and he rushed to Meg’s aid.
        “Stop, vile fiend!” Jay yelled, running towards the boy. “What are you saying to this poor girl?”
        The boy, with a smug look on his face, said, “I just told her she’s an ugly creature, and that no one would ever have sex with her, because if they did, she’d have retarded kids.” Meg ran off the sales floor with her face buried into her hands.
        As my brother heard the girl’s sobs, his sense of chivalry rose and he said to the boy, “That’s not nice, you know?”
        “Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?”
        My brother motioned for mall security with the sweep of his arm. Within seconds, two security guards had arrived. “Security, arrest this boy!” he shouted.
        “Yes, King Tusch, as you wish.” The guards handcuffed the boy and took him away. The boy is now facing five years to life for attempted murder in the first degree.
        Once again, justice was served by Jay Tusch.

        When my brother was a high school senior in 2002, he was one of the nation’s top football recruits as a quarterback. Every day, letters flooded our mailbox. Elite programs like Michigan, USC, Texas, and Florida State all wanted a piece of Jay Tusch. The question was, did my brother want a piece of them?
        No. In fact, my brother realized that athletics was not his true calling. That came over the summer, when my brother, looking for volunteer work, decided to go on a Christian mission. When he came back, he was a different person. Though he was different, he admittedly was a much better person.
        “All these years,” he said, “I thought life was about sports, money, women, and cars. Now I realize that life is about converting children of various incorrect religions to Christianity.”
        The Sporting News once described Jay as, “The future of the college gridiron.” Sports Illustrated said he had the arm of John Elway, the legs of Randall Cunningham, and the mind of Joe Montana.
        Jay just shrugged off all the praise. He gave up instant stardom to do something he believed in.

        Pat Harrington now works with senior citizens. It’s a full-time job that gives him full-time satisfaction. However, he used to work as the manager of the Klein’s All-Sports in Latham, New York. He never understood how Jay could always keep his head high in such a depressing setting.
        “He always had a smile on his face—always laughing,” Pat said. “You know, I remember after Trent Dilfer’s son died, Klein’s felt like a morgue. No one wanted to work—they were too sad to give their normal, one-hundred percent Klein’s effort. Jay Tusch was the only person to sell more than $1000 of merchandise that day.”
        Another time, a young girl was longing for an expensive pair of shoes, but she didn’t have enough money. My brother gave her the money and whispered to her, “Don’t tell anyone I did this for you, okay?”
        The girl nodded to him. She instantly fell in love with my brother, as most girls tend to do. The little girl innocently asked, “Will you marry me someday?”
        My brother gave a loud, hearty laugh. “Har, har, har! Here’s my number.” He gave the girl his phone number and said, “When you’re eighteen, give me a call.”
        Little kids melt my brother’s heart. I guess you could say he’s this generation’s Michael Jackson.
        You know, no one’s perfect—not even my brother. Still, if a football team were to win all of its games, the team would be perfect. Though none of the individuals are perfect, and no games would be perfectly played, the team would be perfect. My brother is like that. Even though he’s the not the smartest, or the strongest, or even the sexiest, the sum of his parts make him the perfect person. I’ve realized that if everyone in this world were like Jay Tusch, the world would be a perfect place.
 

Why is it that whenever I haven't seen someone in a really long time, I always assume they moved to Virginia?  Case in point...

For the past 2 months, I've been trying to unearth the mystery of these so-called "boneless" chicken wings.  How did these wings become so boneless?  Maybe chickens never had bones in their wings to begin with, but basic chicken anatomy proved that theory wrong.

Of course, "theory" is a little strong.  After all, "theory" is just below "law" in principles of certainty, and "hypothesis" is one step below "theory."  A hypothesis is an educated guess, which I am allowed to make.  I graduated from SUNY Cortland.  That means I'm educated--and I use that term loosely--so any guess I make is a hypothesis, and I hypothesized that perhaps boneless chicken are not chicken at all!

Follow with me for a sec here.

On most food labels of the boneless wing variety, how often do you actually see "chicken?"  I'd say that point makes a pretty strong hypothesis.

But not so fast.

Someone else who jumped in my discussion hypothesized that maybe boneless wings aren't even really wings, but are simply dipped into wing sauce.  And that would seem pretty logical, but for one thing: You can't call something that's not a wing a wing.  That's false advertising.  So i pretty much squashed that person's opinion, and I came up with a new one of my own.

Boneless wings come from bears.  Of course, an unnamed third person, Jackie Steciuk, threw an even bigger guess out.  She thought that boneless wings came from pteradactyls. 

I was sorry to do it, but I crushed the girl's guess with proven fact.  Dinosaurs went extinct a loooonnnggg time ago, at least two hundred years ago, which is well before the Lincoln Administration.

Well, kids, wait until my next post, when I explore the topic of....

 Well, people, it's been a really, really, really--and I mean really--long time since I've posted in my LiveJournal.  Why, you may ask?  Well, there's a couple reasons.

First, I thought about changing my user name.  I want to synchronize all my different user accounts from various websites so I use similar user names and passcodes.  That's still true, but I realized that's a stupid reason to not post in my LiveJournal.

Second, for a while, my job was stifling my creativity.  Me and my bosses talked about it a little the other day, and they told me I can be creative again.

Third, last night, some woman accused me of watching too much porn.  I told her that I no longer watch porn because I have none left on my computer ever since it crashed, but I don't think she cared about what I said, since she wasn't even near me when I tried to tell her.  I don't care, because she doesn't know the real JTusch2008.

Now it's time for the obligatory "I have to let you know what's going on in my life because I haven't updated this thing in so long" spiel.  

The last time I wrote in here was May 19th, and that was only to post my annual May 19th tribute to "See No Evil."  May 19th!  May 19th!   May 19th!  If you go back to 2006, I started doing it way back then.

Since May 19th, however, I became a personal trainer, I bought a new Official NFL Game Day Football, I mowed the lawn twice, and I caught Athlete's Foot.  The Athlete's Foot is almost gone now, since I use "Boom!  Tough Actin'" Tinactin.

John Madden, I still love you like I've never loved any other man before. 

May 19th!  May 19th!  May 19th!!

Arghhhhhh!  This is terrible!  My day is now ruined!  It was going so great too.  I just got a haircut, I just shaved, I was going to trim my nose and ear hair once I bought a nose and ear hair trimmer, and I was going to shave my privates.  I was gonna be a stud again, and now I have to buy new pants, because SOMEONE (hint: me) accidentally washed a Dr. Grip Center of Gravity in the laundry.  I mean, it should be no biggie right?  After all, I've done that plenty of times with no consequences, but this time, something really bad happened.  Like epic proportions bad.  Stay tuned until my next post to find out what happened.

 It's been 22 days since my last LiveJournal post.  I'm sitting here right now in just my underwear, eating a roast beef sandwich.  I'm using my boxers as a plate.  I think I'm going to check the nutritional information on cold cut roast beef. 

 If you need me for anything, I'll be at Gold's Gym.  haha

Man, I really feel like a senior citizen, and lemme tell ya, it's a shitty feeling.  No wonder old people are cranky, just waiting to die.  The past couple nights, I've fallen asleep madd early.  It actually feels kinda good, because no matter how late I fall asleep, I never wake up past 9, so I'm doing my body a favor. 

Besides, staying in these past few nights as gotten me to do a lot of research.  I've been researching how much RAM is the optimal amount of rendering Windows Vista Premium with Aero effects in 32-bit.  The answer is two gigs.  I've also researched how food items are prioritized in our household--not very balanced.  I counted 12 boxes of cereal alone.  Now, 12 is my favorite number, and the 12th Man is my nickname, and my screenname is JLids12, and I used to have a compulsory obsession with the number 12, but that's for neither here, nor there, nor anywhere. 

Anyway, back to the story.

I also counted like 20 frozen dinners, yogurt up the wazoo, and we have so many beans and lentils and condensed soup that it makes us seem like we looted a canned food drive.  A penny saved is a penny earned, but a penny pinched is a penny wasted.  Most people don't like being pinched, but they LOVE being fucking wasted!  Hoo-RAHHHH!!! 

Hey, is it just me, or are most people's shoulders propped too far forward?  Maybe it's because they don't keep their shoulder blades retracted when bench pressing.  Or, maybe most people just enjoy looking like super-deformed hunchbacked freaks.  Either way, my jump rope came in the mail yesterday, and I finally got to try it out today.  Well, first of all, the delivery time was obnoxiously long, so I think I'll leave the seller some negative feedback on eBay.  That'll learn him.

Anyway, the new jump rope works pretty well.  It's a Buddy Lee Aero Speed rope.  The only problem is, I think I cut the rope too short.  Most jump rope guides say that the handles should reach just below the armpits.  But, I dont know, it doesn't really seem to work for me.  Whatever, I'm just happy I finally wrote in my LiveJournal.

 Dude, this is sweet!  I just went into the back room and found a woman's tupperware full of pills.  I can't wait to try some.  Whenever I find random pills, I like playing this game where I see how many I can take before I can't feel feelings anymore.  It's almost as much fun as playing Guitar Hero.  Izzy Sparks is mah boy!

I didn't bring anything to read today.  This sucks.  I wish I didn't trade-in Pokemon Diamond and Castlevania: Portrait of Ruin.  Trading in games makes me feel like a jackass.  I wonder if a jackass feels like me.  I would like to feel Jack's ass.  Not Jack Parker, though.  That guy said that if I ever came back into Sports Authority, he would punch me in the face.  I could take him.  He's basically a midget who knew my old keyboarding teacher in high school.  God, that class was easy fo' sheezy.

I just ate the glucose tablets that had been sitting at the front desk for four days, and lemme tell you something: those shits is dope, yo!  It's kinda like when you try and milk a cow, but it won't dispense milk because you haven't spent enough time brushing it and becoming its friend.  Misty Bloom Cave, I will defeat you!

Cows think they're so smart.  What they don't realize is that we know they're riddled with mad cow diseases, like Mad Cow disease.  That shit makes your brain turn to mush, kinda like TV, but without the radioactivity.  Either way, cancer is a possibility.
 

I always wondered what life would be like if you had to be timed in the 40 yard dash to qualify for the orchestra.  I mean, we all know playing the cello or the viola is tough work and requires vast amounts of meticulous practice, but if instrumentalists are going to consider themselves professional athletes, then they should be subjected to the same rigorous testing as NFL prospects.  What about that blind guy who sings opera?  He must have the cardiovascular capacity of a horse--a blind one at that. 

Secretariat was one of the greatest gaming horses across all generations, but he died at the tender age of 19.  He had a heart that was 2.5 times the size of a normal horse's.  No wonder he could sprint so fast for so long.  That bastard was a fucking machine.  Kinda like me, but without the infrared sensors.  Booyah!  You know what I'm talking about?

I started eating popsicles again.  I think I've eaten so many in my lifetime, I've become somewhat desensitized to their taste.  Literally, it's difficult for me to tell difference between grape and lime, which is pretty freakin' weird when you think about it, since violet and green are opposites on the color spectrum.  Then again, the spectrum is not a perfect circle; it's more like an arc.

I spilled mashed sweet potatoes on my left clavicle.  Don't ask me how they got there, because if you do, this is what I'll tell you: I don't know how they got there.  Someone once told me it should be virtually impossible to spill food on your shoulder unless you're ladeling it over your head.  The strange thing though is  I don't own a ladel.  My bad, I do own a ladel.  So much for that theory.

Don't forget, sweet potatoes will net you one of the highest profit margins of all the mainstream cash crops. 

Yesterday, I got toothpaste in my eye.  It was like my eyes had clamidia or something.  Don't forget, Al Capone died from syphillis, and most people thought he was immortal, so I guess anything's possible.  Also, epidemiology is  NOT the study of the epidermis.  That would fall under the category of dermatology.  Epidemiology is the study of disease and its transmission and prevention.

Superfreak!  Superfreak!  I'm superfreaky!  Very kinky girl!  Kind you don't take home to mother!  You see where I'm going with this?  When there's a large age discrepancy between members of a couple, and age seems to be the main factor of their conflicts, you can say one of two things.  You can say that one is too young for the other, or you can say the other is too old.  Both excuses seem like the same thing, but rhetorical studies along with rhetorical psychology show that, while two phrases can seemingly have similar meanings, they don't.  Of course, if you're not judicious with your verbiage, you might say one phrase accidentally and cause somewhat of a shitshow.

For instance, say you tell the younger party they're simply too young.  That implies you're telling them they're not mature enough to understand what they're putting themselves into.  Conversely, if you tell the older party they're too old, that implies that they need someone who can better mesh with their level of emotional or physical maturity.

So, where am I going with this?  I'm not sure, but I took a really nice dump this morning.  Man, it was so satisfyin.'  It was like the feeling you get when you're a defense attorney and you provide indisputible evidence against the prosecution team's indictment.  

Take that, Miles Edgeworth!

Ok, JTusch2007--soon to be JTusch2008--is ready to begin.

Listen, let me get a few things off my chest.  First off, I'm not gay.  Second, I do NOT like little boys, thank you very much.  With that said, it's easy to realize this: I'm making my first LiveJournal post in a long while.  Well, my first real one, at least.  I know, I keep saying that I want to start writing in this thing consistently again.  It's hard though, ya know.  Well, I'm done.

JLids12: boldish
Boldish74AU23: yea
JLids12: did ur principle say anything to u about me after i left?
Boldish74AU23: he made all of us go inside and wai tin the cafeteria for the buses to come
JLids12: does he always do that/
Boldish74AU23: nope that was the only time
JLids12: why did he do that?
Boldish74AU23: i dont know maybe because he didnt like you
JLids12: dude, he asked me if i was a teacher
JLids12: shouldnt the principal know if someone is a teacher or not?
Boldish74AU23: i dont know prolly
JLids12: if u were a principal, wouldnt u want to know who all the teachers were?
Boldish74AU23: not if there were like 100
JLids12: its better than randomly walking up to someone and asking them if they're a teacher
Boldish74AU23: that is true
Boldish74AU23: but you look like a teacher
JLids12: i was wearing jeans and a polo
JLids12: and i was throwing a football in the courtyard
JLids12: and i was wearing skateboarding shoes
Boldish74AU23: well maybe he didnt see the attire that you were wearing
JLids12: he was looking right at me
Boldish74AU23: but the polo could have been a sign of a teacher
JLids12: teachers wear dress shirts
Boldish74AU23: well i didnt notice that you were wearin skateboarding shoes
JLids12: how old do u think i look
Boldish74AU23: like 20
JLids12: how many 20 year olds do u know who are teachers?
Boldish74AU23: none
Boldish74AU23: but u could be the first
JLids12: no
Boldish74AU23: y not tusch you look like one kinda
JLids12: look like what?
Boldish74AU23: like a giant hippo floating in the nile river
JLids12: no
JLids12: incorrect
Boldish74AU23: well then what do u look like
JLids12: a golds gym employee
Boldish74AU23: well i dont see that when i look at you
JLids12: if i was a teacher, would u want to be in my class?
Boldish74AU23: yea of course
JLids12: do u think u would learn anything?
JLids12: i taught u a lot today
Boldish74AU23: you did teach me a lot today
Boldish74AU23: so i would learn something
JLids12: i'm very smart boldish
Boldish74AU23: i know
JLids12: some people, like michael parzych and dmitri knapp, do not seem to think so
Boldish74AU23: well im one of the people that do think so tusch
JLids12: and coach hennessey
Boldish74AU23: coach hennessey thinks everyone stupid
JLids12: he's just mad because i sold him and his hot wife some knives
Boldish74AU23: he does have a pretty hot wife
Boldish74AU23: and y did u sell them knives out of everybody u could of sold knives to
JLids12: idk, cuz i figured he would buy some
JLids12: he used to be a chef
Boldish74AU23: really
JLids12: yes
Boldish74AU23: where
JLids12: idk, but from what he told me, he was very big into the culinary arts, and the arcane arts
Boldish74AU23: oooooo
Boldish74AU23: isnt arcane arts from oblivion
JLids12: no, arcane just means like the unknown
Boldish74AU23: o but its also from oblivion
JLids12: so it does cover like magic, witchcraft, wizardly
JLids12: wizardry*
JLids12: it also covers the occult, the supernatural, science fiction, and that kind of stuff
Boldish74AU23: y u are very smart tusch
JLids12: well that the reason he studied magic
JLids12: i mean, the reason he studied magic was so he could somehow summon gargoyles from their stone sleep during the daylight
JLids12: typically, gargoyles can only live at night
Boldish74AU23: wow i didnt know he could do that stuff
Boldish74AU23: but y can gargoyles only live at night
JLids12: well the sunlight turns them to stone
JLids12: that's how u kill a gargoyle... if u have to fight one, u hope u can survive till dawn so they turn to stone, then u smash them and kill them
JLids12: if a gargoyle is injured, its stone sleep heals it
Boldish74AU23: did u learn all this at college
JLids12: no, LEP
JLids12: i was in the learning enrichment program as a child
JLids12: its for the gifted students
Boldish74AU23: so thats were u learned how to summon gargoyles
JLids12: no, i never learned how to... that's what hennessey was trying to learn to do
JLids12: there's still no known way to do it
Boldish74AU23: o well i think you should study it and find a way to do it
JLids12: ur right... hey boldish, thanks for giving me some direction in life... i'm glad i talked to u
Boldish74AU23: anytime tusch
JLids12: let's just ignore all those mean things i said to u on facebook
Boldish74AU23: i guess
Boldish74AU23: but it really hurt my feelings
JLids12: boldish ur my pal... i really hope you gain 20 pounds of muscle
Boldish74AU23: thanks
Boldish74AU23: ur my pal to
Boldish74AU23: and i will try very hard
JLids12: ok
JLids12: are u gonna keep this sn after ronnie brown retires?
Boldish74AU23: yea i will always love ronnie brown
Boldish74AU23: even when he sucks at football
JLids12: do u ever find his effort to be unsatisfying?
Boldish74AU23: never he always puts in a good effort
JLids12: who's ur prom date gonna be
Boldish74AU23: any body i want to take
JLids12: find me one... i wanna go back to prom
Boldish74AU23: ok tusch i will
JLids12: try to keep the girl on the attractive side
Boldish74AU23: ok i will dont worry
JLids12: dont get me some fat moo-cow
JLids12: with hairy knuckles
Boldish74AU23: i wont dont worry
Boldish74AU23: ill ask her right know
JLids12: haha
Boldish74AU23: now
JLids12: preferably a senior too... i'd like to keep things as close to being legal as possible
Boldish74AU23: shes a sophmore
JLids12: ehh
JLids12: how the hell could she ask me to a prom?
Boldish74AU23: o i got a plan
JLids12: think about this... i need to be invited... the person inviting me needs to be a jr./sr. at ur school
Boldish74AU23: ill invite you and bring u and her
JLids12: uhh, dont they only sell tickets in pairs?
Boldish74AU23: well ill get triples
JLids12: they dont have those
Boldish74AU23: well i can get anything i want
JLids12: dude, shut up.
Boldish74AU23: no u shut up
JLids12: be serious
Boldish74AU23: i asked her
JLids12: she's a sophomore
Boldish74AU23: yea
JLids12: what's her name
Boldish74AU23: samatha
JLids12: samantha what
Boldish74AU23: vandor
Boldish74AU23: she wants to meet u now
JLids12: haha
JLids12: does she know i'm 20?
Boldish74AU23: no she thinks u go to are school
JLids12: u know i'm 20, right?
Boldish74AU23:  Boldish74AU23 (8:02:02 PM): he wants to go to prom with u
xxsamyvxx (5:02:08 PM): o rlly
Boldish74AU23 (8:02:24 PM): yea
xxsamyvxx (5:02:27 PM): lol aww thats cute wat does he look like and why dont i no him
Boldish74AU23 (8:02:55 PM): i dont know y u dont know him
xxsamyvxx (5:03:08 PM): lol bring him to nicks locker in the mornig and show me him lol
JLids12: "why dont i know him?"
JLids12: haha
JLids12: tell her that her computer is running on california time
Boldish74AU23: y
JLids12: cuz her timestamp is off by 3 hours
JLids12: anyway, listen, i cannot go with her
JLids12: she is a sophomore
Boldish74AU23: ok she will be dissapointed
JLids12: boldish, listen to me, i would need to be invited by someone who is actually allowed to invite someone to a prom
JLids12: sophomores cannot ask people who dont go to shaker to a shaker prom
JLids12: and who's nick?  fat nick?
Boldish74AU23: oops i just signed off on accident
Boldish74AU23: are u gonna get the new tony hawks
JLids12: no
JLids12: oh and get coach grimes a date... if i go, he's gotta go too
Boldish74AU23: well he has a wife
JLids12: yeah but she's not a shaker student
Boldish74AU23: ok does she need a date to
JLids12: umm, nahh, she wont want to go
Boldish74AU23: how do u know that
JLids12: idk, i'm guessing
JLids12: but i'm a good guesser, soo...
Boldish74AU23: o yea well then what will the score of the heat and spurs game be
JLids12: hmm, heat-spurs?
JLids12: probably 92-78
JLids12: spurs
Boldish74AU23: ok tusch ill be watching and if your right ill give you $1
JLids12: ok
JLids12: are u gonna find me a prom bitch or not
Boldish74AU23: yea i will
JLids12: and was the "nick" she was referring to fat nick?
Boldish74AU23: yea
JLids12: why would she ever want to meet someone at fat nick's locker?  it probably smells like shit
Boldish74AU23: it actually doesnt
Boldish74AU23: u would be very suprised
JLids12: is fat nick's locker like a social center?
Boldish74AU23: only for the sophmores
JLids12: why?
Boldish74AU23: because he still is one
JLids12: oh ok
Boldish74AU23: yea hes dumb
JLids12: i figured
JLids12: are u gonna find grimes a date, or just me?
Boldish74AU23: both of you
JLids12: ok cool
JLids12: i'll let coach grimes know
Boldish74AU23: call him right now and tell him
JLids12: i dont have his number
Boldish74AU23: y u coached with him
JLids12: i know
JLids12: i only have sheeler's number
Boldish74AU23: o well call up sheeler and ask for grime's number
JLids12: well i see coach grimes at latham circle mall sometimes, so i'll just tell him the next time i see him
Boldish74AU23: what does he do at latham circle mall
Boldish74AU23: thats like the deadest mall around these parts
JLids12: well latham circle mall is my spot, and he goes to hot dog charlies
Boldish74AU23: o well thats a good excuse
Boldish74AU23: hot dog charlies is the best hot dog place around
JLids12: maybe
JLids12: ok, i must go for now
Boldish74AU23: ok good bye
JLids12: later
JLids12: try not to get sophomores!
Boldish74AU23: ill get seniors
JLids12: sweet

Last night, I had a dream, and my friend Tina Ballerina was in it.  She was hooked up to an IV unit.  I'm not sure why, but she looked f'n sick.  Anyway, I later dreamt that my mom put diesel fuel in her jeep.  I recalled that dream while I was getting gas for my car awhile ago.  That's when I realized that gas went over $3/gallon for the first time in recorded history.  Hmm... there sure are a lot of blackspots on my apple.  But hey, an apple a day keeps the doctor at bay, which is good, because I don't have health insurance.  I am looking forward to my annual flushot, though.  I love needles.  They remind me of the good ol' days.  Yeah...

Ya know what pisses me off?  When people write "haha" backwards.  ahahaha!!  It's so funny!  NOT!!!! There is no reason for this ass-backwards thinking, people!  There's no good social, economical, socioeconomical, or anatomical reason for this lame-ass interweb lingo.  It doesn't make you a better person, it doesn't make the Jews even more money, nor does it repair broken-down muscle tissue.  Look, I'm done for now.  This is my first real entry in a while, and I need to get back into the flow of things.  It takes time, so just wait, and your patience will be rewarded.

Ya know, I can't believe it's been four weeks since I last posted in here.  JTusch should start getting with the program.  What kind of program though?  An anti-smoking program.  Original programming for a network television studio.  Help me out here, people!