Guitar Hero, Penis Jokes and Other Things That I Love.

This just in: the dorm walls are very thin.

If you have ever heard of, or played the game guitar hero, or rockband, slap yourself on the wrist before reading the rest of this blog.

My roommates happen to enjoy these games very much, and they also enjoy playing them very loudly, late at night, with fierce obnoxiousness.

Guitar Hero is bad enough, and the constant PAT PAT PAT PAT of RockBand is annoying in itself, but when they play songs that I originally liked, then BUTCHER them via Guitar hero, a little bit of myself dies.

There's something unsettling about hearing Jimmy Eat World's "The Middle," and between every other lyric, there is a loud, pre-pubescent yelp that varies anywhere between "FUCK," or "FUCK THIS SONG," and I think I once heard "THIS SONGS FUCKIN HARD."

On top of that, I have a NEW roommate who also shares this passion for fake-music-playing. The dialogue between the two goes as follows.

Unfortunate Roommate #1: "I can't keep rhythm with this fuckin' song cuz I am WHITE."

UFR #2: "Yeah dude, this songs FUCKIN hard!"

UFR #1: "I fuckin' Hate this song!"

UFR#2: "Dude, yeah, This song's FUCKIN hard!"

UFR#1: "Yeah dude, thanks for the insight. I'm glad our relationship is based on a plastic guitar. But seriously...Fuck this song."

(Song Lyrics): "It just takes some time, little girl in the middle after a while, everything everything will be just fine, everything will be alright")

UFR #2: "Hey...It just takes some time. After a while it will be alright."

UFR #1: "Thanks dude. Hey...let's talk louder and play our retarted video game louder so the basketball player that lives in our dorm writes a blog about us."

UFR #2: "Okay, that sounds like alot of fun."

This is a typical Sunday night for me, and every once in a while I will get a rare glance at the men...in the flesh. He once walked out to do his dishes that he never does, complaining about how he tried to get with this one 'chick' but she 'is a slut, because she doesn't like me,' and then he proceeded to tell me how she never texted him back and said her phone can't text.

He then saw her texting with her cell-phone, fully functioning, and he lost it.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT SHIT!!!!"

Me: "Um...did you steal that cup from the cafeteria?"

"Yeah I grabbed it and was talking to her when I was leaving, and was so nervous I forgot I had it in my hands. She's such a slut."

I managed to not openly make fun of him, but upon him leaving the room, I noticed he had his Guitar Hero Axe slung across his right shoulder...as he walked back to his room, his laboratory, his guitar-hero sanctuary.

My roommate then brought to my attention that he thinks he knows why our fellow dorm-mate has a hard time with women.

"I think it'd be hard to get a girl's number walking around with a video game guitar on your shoulder."

Touche'.

"It just takes some time, little girl your in the middle, after a while, everything will be just fine. Everything, everything will be alright."

In other news, I went to the La Grande guitar and Stereo store today to buy a textbook, and when I was leaving the guy behind the register told me to "Keep a stiff pick."

Appauled, I looked back at him, and assured him that my protruding erection was NOT from him...but rather from the warm weather, as with any other 19 year old, when it raises above 55 degrees farenheit, I achieve an uncontrollable erection.

Slightly embarrassed, I looked down at my pants, and I DID NOT have an erection.

As strange as that may sound, it turns out it was 54 degrees and he was referring to me literally keeping a stiff pick when I play guitar.

Little does HE know that I actually prefer a floppy pick, and all the flags around town are currently only raised to half-mast...for what it's worth.

There are no sexual inuendos in this post, so get your mind out of the gutter.

This semester has been the first educational experience I have ever had with Art, and I wish I would have started earlier.

It's really fun to look at a painting of some guy on a horse, and talk about how it is expressing the power and social isolation of the common man during the Neo-classic era, the yellow on the horizon indicates a sense of optimism and gives the painting an everlasting positive outlook, and the shading in the left corner really illustrates that fact that I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT!!!!

I basically say this in class everyday, to the teacher, and he acts like I just struck artistic GOLD.

"YES! That is an EXCELLENT observation Sean! Great work! I love you."

The last part doesn't happen, but regardless, he is a good teacher, and he makes me feel good even if I am technically looking at a picture and essentially making shit up.

HOWEVER....

Not ALL art teachers are cool.

There are a select few who do way too many drugs in their youth, make films, teach a couple classes at EOU and have a noticable problem with armpit-sweat and need to be more specific in the directions they give in class.

Let me explain.

I recently had a confrontation with my Digital Media Arts teacher, because I brought notes to the test, after asking him if notes were okay to bring for the test.

Our conversation went exactly like this:

"Hey professor, is it okay to use an index-card for our test?"

"Yeah it's fine. Bring what you need. However, remember that I did alot of heavy drugs in my youth, so odds are I am not technically conscious right now, and I will not technically remember what is happening right now, and technically...this is a salad. (See retarted Taco Bell commercial)"

Then...the day of the test comes, and he walks in, sweaty armpitted and reeking of artsy-farts. Not the good kind.

He says to me "Hey cool are those notes?"

"Yeah."

"Cool do you want me to throw them away or give them to you after the test?"

"Um...I'd like to use them. That's why I made them."

"Um...this is NOT an open note test."

"You told me I could use them. I asked a few weeks ago and you said index cards were allowed."

"No I didn't. That wasn't me."

Oh...right. It was the other professor on campus who smells like marijuana and references taco bell commercials while talking about Pixels, Bit-Depth, and other technical jargon that makes me want to slit my wrists and drain the blood all over your stupid...STUPID chalkboard.

I didn't say that. At all.

"Yeah it was. You told him we could use notes," said a random kid who was standing up for me. Thank you random kid.

"No...I am not going to let you use notes on your test. I am not going to let you cheat."

He took the index cards, wiped his ass with them, and challenged me to "Use your shitty index cards now,"

Enfuriated, and more so disgusted, I refused to touch the poop-cards, and he then told me "Welcome to college," where apparently if you break the rules, with 100% innocence and good intentions, you get your notes shitted on by a very confused professor.

The test was given on 4-20, so i am assuming he was not entirely aware of his existence, and he was really nice to me the next day so I'm assuming he has no idea or recollection of what happened.

Long story short, I got a low C on the test, and I am in the process of finding a way to use index cards as a weapon, because he already figured out a way to use them as toilet paper.

In conclusion, don't make fun of Erectile Disfunction, take an art class and the next person you see walking around with a guitar-hero axe over their shoulder, give them your phone number...and preferrably a blow job, so I don't have to hear anymore bullshit.

Also, tell that person to do their dishes. That peanut butter knife is getting to be ridiculous.

April 20th, 2009. The day my ass exploded.

(Please note that flatulence is incorrectly spelled right there, and is also a very popular topic of mine, but had little-to-nothing to do with this post.)

Incase you didn't know, today was Monday, April 20th, National Look-A-Like day. After Brad Pitt and I got done taking pictures for the media, it was time for me to return to my college-student-alias and go to school and stuff.

Apparently, April 20th means different things to other people.

My attention was drawn to the courtyard between North and South halls, with that big ugly whale-looking thing that art majors think is an expression of social isolation and plankton (the spongebob character.) Ooops, I am a Media Arts major...which in turn makes me a 1.) Pussy and 2.) Bad at Math.

Anyway, i peeked out of the window to see one of my classmates riding on a bicycle, whose seat is 8 feet in the air, smoking a blunt and yelling out loud "Smoke Weed Everyday!"

Then, in less theatrical form, his fat friend, struggling to pedal his bicycle was breathing heavily and puffing in the marijuana smoke from his blunt, saying "Yeah...smoke weed...oh god I'm tired...LEGALIZE IT!"

After seeing this, my day couldn't get much better, until I ate some special brownies that had me totally baked and trippin' balls. Just kidding, I don't eat brownies. Way too much fat.

For the rest of the day, I played a really fun game that was especially entertaining today, but would probably be very entertaining most days for a college student.

No, I am not talking about competitive curling, or cow tipping, I am talking about the game "Who can pick out who is presently high in class right now!?"

I always won, because I don't have any friends to play with, and I had a drug-dog from the LGPD helping me out.

It was never more apparent than the 8-feet-high-seat-biker when he was in my ART 206 class. He and a friend walked in 10 minutes late, with a smoke cloud following them and a bong protruding out of his left rear pocket on his backpack. And a sign that said "I AM HIGH."

His friend had a T-shirt that didn't sell too well in all months besides late April that said "I'm with High----->"

They couldn't have been more obvious, so of course, instead of taking notes, I decided to stare aimlessly at the pot-smoking art students. They were doing group work with another lady, and literally looked like they were having the time of their life listening to this 40 year old woman ramble on about "time-based-media," which to my understanding, is made up and only exists in fairy tales.

I was having approximately 1/8 as much fun as these pot fiends, so I figured I'd give myself a little lift...so I walked within a 20 foot radius of them, and i breathed in for approximately one .24 of a second, and retained the most intense make-believe-secondary-high I have ever experienced. It was totally sick, dude, and I was all of a sudden seeing so many brilliant ideas, and getting really hungry.

Long story short, I ended up eating my group members, and my teacher, and my desk, and the left shoe of the very fat man that sits to my left. After a very upset stomach, and some interesting bowel movements, I have realized the TRUE meaning behind april 20th.

It's look-a-like day, and if you eat people when experiencing an imaginary secondary-high, you will shit fire for days on end. Especially if you combine cannabalism with protein shakes.

Also, in partially unrelated news, a student that sits 2 seats to the left of me unmistakably looks like the golden retriever from Homeward Bound, so I think my day wrapped up pretty fittingly.

Now i just need a bike that seats 8 feet in the air, and a fat friend. A fat friend who rides a bicycle and smokes weed.

I'd love to stay and chat but Brad is a stickler for tardiness, and we have a double date with Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Anniston...AWKWARD...I know.