Stumble

I feel like I should introduce myself and yet the only one who will read this already knows who I am.

Regardless, to no one in particular [or rather, to the entire internets] I proclaim: I am Christian Shane Pollard, hear me rant and scavenge my brain for the smallest scraps of something interesting to say.

Honestly, I don't know what to write here. I currently live in the sparsely populated New Orleans East, and six days out of seven nothing of interest happens in my life. I head back to USM on May 22nd, so I imagine things of much interest shall take place starting then, and subsequently my posts will be more frequent and shall contain words of interest as opposed to the post I am transcribing now, which is dragging along quite pathetically.

I tend to get longwinded.

Anyways I hope this, while nothing compared to Slagathor's rants, spares me from her wrath. [Spare the rod, spoil the child? Why did that come to mind? ...'the rod' sounds pretty kinky...] I wrote, betch. SHUN ME NOT. 

"Leave the ram!"

[Insert Obituary Here]

Christian's obituary will be placed here if he does not POST SOON!

[Twat]

Newfound Carrot Appreciation

So I woke up at three-ish again today. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash a bowl, and I found that "Springtime for Hitler" was stuck in my head. It's actually a pretty fun song to have stuck in your head. :D I just thought I'd share that.

Last night, I went over to Becky and Rachel's room, and Rachel and I watched Shoot 'Em Up. Which was WONDERFUL. Imagine a movie so out-there and outrageous that you have to just get over it and like it. I mean, there are these scenes in it that are FREAKING COOL but at the same time you're like, "Yeah, right. That could NEVER happen." But then you kinda realize you don't care if it could happen or not because you're having so much fun watching it. And the dialogue... ok, ok, if any of you guys has seen Hot Fuzz, you'll know this part: the main character is in his hotel room or whatnot, and the guy breaks in to kill him. This guy is huge, his name is Lurch [I think], and he has a "child's mind". Lurch is about to kill the main character when the main character [his name escapes me. I know his last name is Angel... I'm not entirely sure as to his first name. I want to say it's Nicholas]. Anyway, the main character holds up a stuffed gorilla or something which totally distracts Lurch, giving the main character time to knock him out. Right after he does that, he says, "Playtime's over." Shoot 'Em Up is FULL of lines like that. They make me so happy! And it has one of the absolute best soundtracks ever! My favorite Wolfmother song was in it, followed by AC/DC, Motley Crue, Motorhead, etc. Pure love. You can't help but adore the main character because he's kickasstastic, and, after viewing the movie, you will totally have a new appreciation for carrots. :D Anywho, the movie-watching was accompanied by cheese cube, Cheddar and Sour Cream Ruffles, and Mountain Dew consumption. Can you say uber unhealthy? LOL But it was all really good. Plus we paused the movie for like half an hour and just talked about random stuff. It was neat. :] Oh, the point I was getting to was that, when I was over there, I found Becky's DVD case and borrowed some of her movies :D The problem with having friends with similar interests is that you'll go to borrow a movie and realize you guys almost have the same movie collection. LOL Like there was Beetlejuice, Benny and Joon, Sleepy Hollow, the POTC movies, Princess Bride, etc. LOL But there was the first POTC movie, which I no longer have. It's funny: I had that one before Katrina, and, after Katrina, I got the second and third one and never bothered to get the first one again. I hate spending money on something I already had. Anywho, so I borrowed the first POTC, Girl, Interrupted, and Phantom of the Opera. Heheh.

So, this morning, when I got back from my bathroom time, I pressed play on the first POTC. I had put it on last night, but then I fell asleep. But, today, watching it again, I remembered some of the things that bothered me the most about this movie. 1. The whispery-name-thing. Pretty much everytime Elizabeth or Will says each other's name, it's in a whisper as their longingly looking upon the other at a distance. Annoyance! I think you first see it with the whole, "Good day..... *whisper* Elizabeth." part. But anywho. Watch the movie, and keep your eyes open for it. 2. Elizabeth's mouth. She kinda sticks her lips out constantly to make her mouth look more pouty or something. Annoyance! She doesn't do it so much in scenes where she has dialogue, but like... the first scene where Elizabeth is grown up, and she's asleep and wakes up to polish off the medallion thing. It's like someone punched her in the mouth, and she's all lips-swollen. Seriously though. She really doesn't need to do that. 3. They put Norrington at the beginning of the movie when Elizabeth's really young. He has a brown-haired wig, and then, when she's an adult, he's got the grey-haired wig but HE LOOKS THE SAME. And then he proposes. Ew. But that's not the point. I'm just saying: maybe he's the REAL immortal in this movie. Anywho, I just thought I'd mention such things. Still, the second and third movies, as amazing as they are, have far more issues with them, but I won't go there. Mostly because I can't remember most of them unless I'm watching the movie. LOL [Elizabeth's a too-tanned-anorexic-whore. That would probably be one of the worst things. LOL]

I did a shocking thing today. Usually, when I ask someone what they think on either this or that, I usually pick the opposite of whatever they choose. But I asked Chris if I should eat Ramen or Veggie Soup; he chose Ramen, and I think I'm actually going to follow his suggestion. Ramen sounds damn tastyrific right now :D

I'm being such a bum today. My outfit consists of green and black striped socks, "Go Organic" pajama pants, and my Star Wars shirt. Ah. *random* My mom called me earlier, whilst I was still in my half-asleep daze. It was around noon, and, whenever she calls and I'm still sleeping, I immediately have to sound awake because I don't want to hear it. So she had texted me a bit before she called, and then she calls me, and we get off the phone, then she calls me, and we get off the phone, and then she calls me AGAIN. The third time we're on the phone, she's talking about how I have to start bringing stuff home, and she's like, "Well, do you still use your dorm phone? You could bring that home. Do you use it?" and I'm like, "Not really. The charger part's plugged in, but my phone's like under my bed and all dead." which is the total truth. And then it ALL makes sense when she goes, "Eryn... *lowers voice to this tone that she thinks is intimidating and will pull the 'truth' out of me*... are you really in your dorm?" and, at this point, I'm still in bed, under my covers, and I'm like, "*realization" YES, Mom." And she's like, "Is Chris in town? Are you off somewhere with him?" and I'm like, "NO, Mom. I'm not." and you cal tell she does NOT believe me. Then she gets off the phone with me with this attitude, and it's frustrating. Really, really frustrating. Pretty much the entire time we were on the phone was just because she got it in her head that I was not in my dorm. Whatever.


Grrr. Now I don't know if I want Ramen or to wait until the cafeteria opens in like twenty-seven minutes. Only time will tell. <3>




Adios, mis amigos!
Peace, love, and jazzy Ramenlove.
Eryn

Awkward Stall Neighbors

First blog post! Hell yessirs!

I'm writing this at seven o'clock on the dot, in the pmular time of the day, on a Saturday. I'm sitting in my chaotically messy dormular, waiting for eight o'clock to roll around. I'm going to trudge over to Rachel's to watch Shoot 'Em Up. Which I've actually wanted to see for quite some time now. I don't know. I don't think I state as often as I should all the movies I want to see. Because, a lot of times, I'll want to see a movie really bad, but I won't say anything. So then, finally I'll be like, "Oh, yeah. That movie. I wanted to see it." and people are like, "What? No you didn't. You never said anything." Which make me feel shitty, but that's not the point.

I slept almost the entire day. I mean, I kinda woke up in intervals, but then I'd quickly fall back asleep. I ended up initially passing out around 4:30 of the amular. I was trying to read A Clockwork Orange and half-pay attention to When Harry Met Sally..., but A Clockwork Orange is not two things: 1. Something to read at four thirty in the morning when you're falling asleep and 2. Something to read when your small-as-it-is attention span is half given to a movie. So anywho, I ended up just sending out a few pre-slumber random text messages to Chris, and then I passed out. Chris called me at nine thirty, and I honestly have no idea what we talked about. I probably ended up getting mad at him; I was unhappy with him as it was, but calling a sleep-deprived Eryn at nine thirty in the morning is NEVER good. Wait... I think I remember us talking about pancakes. [WELCOME TO THE INTERNATIONAL HOUSE OF PAINCAKES! (Believe me, they're not as tasty as they sound.)] Yeah, it's his sister Mandy's birthday, and she was awake making herself some pancakes. I thought that kinda sucked; it's her birthday, people! Her family should be making her pancakes for her! Ooh I remember saying that, if I were there, I'd make them for her. And then in my mind I was thinking about how I'd add chocolate chips and sprinkles to them to make them snazzy, but then I didn't mention that because my mouth was too tired to move. Isn't that kinda sad? Not saying something just because you don't feel like going through the effort. LOL Sometimes I'll be on the phone and I'll say something relatively important, but the person on the other line- Chris, typically - won't hear me so I'll have to say it over and over again and finally I'll just be like, "Screw it!" And, of course, he hears that. LOL Anywho, so that was the first time I woke up. The second time was around noon, and my mom was texting me about if I was going to come home today. I was responding, and when I woke up at three, I looked back in my inbox at what I sent her and I was amazed at how intelligible they were. She was saying how I needed to start bringing more of my stuff home for the summer, and I was like, "I need boxes". And she said that she had ONE plastic container that she could give me, and we'd just have to fill it up, bring it to Columbia, empty it, bring it back to Hattiesburg, and repeat the process. That's an hour drive! With ONE plastic container of Eryndormstuffs! So I think I responded with something like, "That's REALLY inconvenient." But yeah. Then I went back to sleep, and at three I was brought from my slumber by my dear friend Becky, texting me with updates of a specific part of her weekend that I requested knowledge on before she left campus on Friday. After I read and responded to her texts, I planned on going back to sleep, but the will to sleep was no longer there. SO I reluctantly got back up and went to the bathroom for the typical morning bathroom ritual. Here's where the strangeness that is Dorm Community Bathrooms comes in. So, I walk in, wearing my weird brown hippie shirt [that I LOVE!], my "Go Organic!" pajama pants, and my trudge-to-the-bathroom flip flops that keep me from picking up the thirty different diseases probably residing in the dorm bathroom. So I put my toothpaste, toothbrush, and mouthwash down on the little shelf above the sinks [on a paper towel], and I walk to the stalls. Much to my dismay, I see that my typicall stall, stall three, is in use. In a normal situation, I would have gone in stalls one or five, my back-ups. But stall one was dark and dangerously low on toilet paper, and the last occupant of stall five was apparently not a fan of flushing. So I settled for stall two, right next to stall three. So I'm sitting there in stall two when I realize that the stall three occupant is making hilariously awkward bathroom noises. For example: grunting. My first reaction was the whole deer-in-headlights-what-the-hell-frozen-in-motion thing. My second reaction was to laugh my ass off. LOL You cannot possibly comprehend how hard it was to NOT laugh. But I managed to keep from doing so because I didn't want to make stall three occupant feel any worse than she must have felt. But it was sooo hard not to laugh. Then comes the next decision: do I stay in the stall and wait for her to leave, or do I hurry out before she can? Because, after a situation like that, the LAST thing you want is to have to face the person you're currently trying so hard not to laugh at. If I stay in the stall, who knows how long she'll be? If I hurry out, what if she gets the same idea, and we ended up with the awkwardness anyway? Ah, behold: the dilemma of Awkward Stall Neighbors. After waiting a couple more minutes and almost bursting into immense bouts of laughter multiple times, I finally rushed out. Then I remembered that I had to brush my teeth, and I was like, "Crap!" [Hahaha.] And teeth brushing for Eryn is no brief process. It's very intricate and thorough. So I'm like, "Well, I'm sure she can stand to be in there for a few more minutes." and I went on to the teethular brushing. By the way, I would like to point out how much I adore my mouthwash. It's this ACT stuff they recommended when I had braces on, and I always get the cinnamon kind. I used to get cinnamon toothpaste, but it always fell short of my cinnamon-taste-standards. So now I use the kind with the awesome little breath stips, and I follow it up with the amazingly tasty mouthwash :D So anyway, after that, it's kind of a blur.

I thought about eating something, but then I remembered that I had to wait thirty minutes after using the mouthwash until eating. Then I remembered that the WCU cafeteria opens at 4:30 for dinner, and I figured I'd just wait till then. I thought about reading, but I decided to waste some time online. Which is kind of sad. Wasting time online does not compare to reading in any way, shape, or form. Take for instance yesterday. I read the entire book entitled Choke by Chuck Palahniuk. It was amazing, and I could on and on about the plot or the themes or the deeper meanins or what not. If I had spent the time I used for reading on le internet instead, what would I have to show for it? "Yeah, uh. I was on Myspace... no one really talked to me, but I changed my status a few times. And I read some new Cyanide and Happiness comis, and, uh, that's about it." Really intelligent. But, see, I'm online right now, blogging, and I don't consider that to be a waste of time. Because I do have funktacular friends who actually read what I write, and we have amazing commentacious conversations. And, years from now, I can look back on this and be utterly amused. But anywho. I got dressed in some jeans, which I had previously drawn a small star and happy flower on :D As well as my blue Erath High School Project Graduation shirt [that was supposed to be Chris' LOL]. I put on my wonderful green and black striped socks and my plaid Converse.

I'd like to take a minute to dedicate a sentence or two [or way more] to my Plaid Converse. When I first saw them, I thought they were the funkiest things EVER. When I found out they didn't have my size, and my grandfather refused to order them [even though it would cost NOTHING extra and they'd deliver them right to our house!], I became positive that there were no other shoes for me, and I help my own until my grandfather agreed to make the wonderful purchase. At first, they were mildly uncomfortable at one point, where the tongue would hit the top of my foot, but I soon grew past that. These shoes have carried me all over Missisppi and Louisiana, all the way to Florida and throughout, through the airports in New Orleans, Atlanta, and London, all over the streets of London, and all over the British countryside. Therefore, my shoes totally kick your shoes' asses. Buurrrrn.

Where was I? SO I sharpened my eyeliner and painted some thick black lines around my eyes, and I headed out to go get some food :D I ended up with a piece of pizza, some fries, salad, and a stange but delicious brownie thing, all the while sitting by my funktasticlar friends Thomas and Caleb. There, we talked of Caleb's future country, Kickassia, and how he will be King Caleb of Kickassia. We talked about the movie Idiocracy, our Katrina experiences, the stupidity of William Carey University, and artists. We also compared our food to cities. We set everything up to represent a place. Like, the big plate with meat and honey mustard was New Orleans. The tiny crappy French fry was Picayune [due to Caleb's great distaste for his hometown], the glass of some random beverage was Hattiesburg, the half-full glass was Laurell, and the salt and pepper shakers were Biloxi and Gulfport. Or, rather, the boobulars of Mississippi.

OH! Speaking of boobulars, I'm losing mine. No, no, I'm not sitting them down at parties and realizing later that they're gone. [That makes me think of the song "Detachable Penis". If you haven't heard that song, you NEED to. Seriously. I have it on my iPod -or had, rather. I can't find my iPod!- under the Butthole Surferes, but I don't think they're who sings that. It's pretty much some guy with the strangest voice talking to music, and people in the background are rhythmically saying "Detachable Peeeniiisssss." But really. It's amazing the the nth.] The point is that I've started working out, and, while I can't really tell in other places yet, my boobs are slowly dimishing. My mumular says it's the first place you lose weight, but seriously. STOP. I mean, I'm quite content with the thought of size B boobs. I just want them to be equal to the rest of my body. LOL I don't want to be fat and flat-chested. That's suckage to the extremes, eh?



Anyway, I think I'm going to be ending this blog now. I'll be signing off with the lyrics to "Detachable Penis" and some quotes from that book, Choke. :D


Okay, according the Google, some people called "King Missile" do that song.
Lyriiicsss:


"I woke up this morning with a bad hangover.
And my penis was missing again.
This happens all the time. It's detachable.

[background singing begins: "detachable penis" over and over]

This comes in handy a lot of the time.
I can leave it home, when I think it's gonna get me in trouble.
Or I can rent it out, when I don't need it.
But now and then I go to a party, get drunk,
And the next morning I can't for the life of me remember what I did with it.
First I looked around my apartment, and I couldn't find it.
So I called up the place where the party was; they hadn't seen it either.
I asked them to check the medicine cabinet 'cause for some reason I leave it there sometimes.
But not this time.

So I told them if it pops up to let me know.
I called a few people who were at the party, but they were no help either.
I was starting to get desperate.
I really don't like being without my penis for too long.
It makes me feel like less of a man, and I really hate having to sit down every time I take a leak.
After a few hours of searching the house, and calling everyone I could think of, I was starting to get very depressed.
So I went to the Kiev, and ate breakfast.
Then, as I walked down Second Avenue towards St. Mark's Place, where all those people sell used books and other junk on the street, I saw my penis lying on a blanket next to a broken toaster oven.
Some guy was selling it.
I had to buy it off him.
He wanted twenty-two bucks, but I talked him down to seventeen.
I took it home, washed it off, and put it back on.
I was happy again.
Complete.
People sometimes tell me I should get it permanently attached, but I don't know.
Even though sometimes it's a pain in the ass, I like having a detachable penis."

LOL



QUOTES:

"There's no way you can get the past right. You can pretend. You can delude yourself, but you can't recreate what's over."

"I'm not loved. I'm not a beautiful soul. I'm not a good-natured, giving person. I'm not anybody's savior."

"Anything you can acquire," she says, "is only another thing you'll lose. The answer is there is no answer."

"If it comes down to a choice between being unloved and being vulnerable and sensitive and emotional, then you can just keep your love."

"You don't need a permit to paint a picture, he says. You don't need to file a plan to write a book. There're books that do more damage than he ever could. You don't need your poem inspected. There's such a thing as freedom of expression."

"What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Someone addicted to me. A mutual addiction."

"The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it."

"The law that keeps us safe, these same laws condemn us to boredom. Without access to true chaos, we'll never have true peace. Unless everything can get worse, it won't get any better. "

"Every woman is just a different kind of problem."

"Until you find something to fight for, you settle for something to fight against."

"We can spend our lives letting the world tell us who we are. Sane of insane. Saints or sex addicts. Heroes or victims. Letting history tell us how good or bad we are. Letting our past decide our future. Or we can decide for ourselves. Any maybe it's our job to invent something better."

"People had been working for so many years to make the world a safe, organized place. Nobody realized how boring it would become. With the whole world property-lined and speed-limited and zoned and taxed and regulated, with everyone tested and registered and addressed and recorded. Nobody had left much room for adventure, except maybe the kind you could buy. On a roller coaster. At a movie. Still, it would always be that kind of faux excitement. You know the dinosaurs aren't going to eat the kids. The test audiences have outvoted any chance of even a major faux disaster. And because there's no possibility of real disaster, real risk, we're left with no chance for real salvation. Real elation. Real excitement. Joy. Discovery. Invention. The laws that keep us safe, these same laws condemn us to boredom."


:D
Have a funktastically smashing evening!


<3>
Elizabetch Slagathor