My wife, The Hilarious Thingy.

So a few weeks ago, Joy and I were in the kitchen, finishing off a jumbo-sized box of shredded wheat, when I suddenly had what I considered to be a brilliant idea.

In pure Dann Fashion, I put the box over my head, adorned and looking quite smart.

Normally of course, Joy takes times like these to remind me what a strange, oddball individual I am. However, today she said something rather unusual.

"My turn. Give it to me."

She sounded positively giddy at this point. She then recreated what I like to call:

"Kellogg's Last Samurai"

This wasn't enough. Laughing hysterically, she claimed that an action shot was called for. So, grabbing my plastic toy gun from the corner (don't judge, it's years old), she struck another pose.

...and they call ME the weirdo.

Of course, these random, hilarious moments of ours are what make us so perfect for each other.

WTF IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?!

I'm incredibly angry right now. I'm so mad I could throw something. AT someone. I was bored at work so I went on MySpace, looking at people's sites, and came across something interesting. One of my...acquaintances...had a list on their page of all the conservative groups they belonged to, one of which said "Stop P.E.T.A."

The switch was flipped.
Instant Rage.

I'm sorry, but is there something wrong with a group that believes it's wrong to pack crates of chickens for your lovely McNuggets so full they can't breathe?

Is there something wrong with a group who believes that if you are going to eat meat, it shouldn't be bludgeoned over the head with a tire iron?

Is there something wrong with a group who knows it is moral to treat other living, breathing, pain-feeling animals the same way we would treat ourselves?

Now, let me ask you something.

It there something wrong with the fact that you are AGAINST this group?

What have you got against animals? What did they ever do to you?

Some people find this funny.

Put it in perspective.

I know what I'm gonna hear now: "PETA is too brash and harsh. They are radical."

Oh. You're right. I'm so sorry. I forgot that standing on street corners, handing out pamphlets saying "Please treat animals with respect" really gets a lot done!

I would think people in the military would know that as well as anyone else. When diplomatic measures fail, you have to resort to more drastic methods. This is true with PETA as well. If someone doesn't do something, NOTHING will get done.

Before now, I was always a defender of PETA, but I never went the extra mile. I know, Me the hypocrite.

AFTER THIS ORDEAL. I HAVE GONE ONLINE AND REGISTERED TO JOIN PETA. THEY WILL NOW BE RECEIVING DONATIONS FROM ME AS WELL.

Thank you for making me see the light.

"WOW". I'm a dork.

So, for the last week I have been trying (in futile agony) to bring my highest-level Warcraft character into fruition. I have been using a 2-Handed Sword this entire time, effectively making me king of all that is Badassery. However, having moved on from leveling to PVPing, I find that my ass has never been kicked this much.

My 5-day frustration and decision making follows:

1. Should I switch to maces? They have a greatly increased chance to stun.

2. Should I get a shield? This will cut my overall damage, but make me stay alive longer.

3. Should I stick it out, and save up my PVP tokens for the big sword I've wanted for so long?

So far, option 2 has been scrapped. I have a shield now, but staying alive for an extra 2 minutes is pointless if you can't kill anything.

Right now, my biggest rift is here:

2-H sword VS. 2-H Mace

Sword has higher damage and speed,

Mace stuns and has more stopping power.

I'm a huge dork, but this has been playing with my mind a lot lately.

Derailed.

It's been a really shitty week.

Let's recap so far. After all, it's only Monday:

1. Sarah and I had a big falling out. She's mad. Enough that she punched me.

2. I had a C average in Biochemistry, so I studied my ass off for an exam this morning. I confidently strolled in...and promptly flunked it. With only one exam left, this pretty much sealed my fate for not getting into nursing school this year. I cried. A lot.

3. Joy left for a funeral this morning, but went to her parents' place last night. I went to bed at midnight...I got to sleep at 4:00 AM. I got up at 7:30 to go to the exam. Came home exhausted and depressed, then spent from noon until 2:30pm trying to get more sleep. I never dozed off once.

4. I worry a lot about Joy. I always do. For some reason, I'm always afraid of something happening to her whenever I'm not there. To top things off, we were looking online at female musicians, and I remembered a beautiful, yet ultra-depressing song called "Passage" by Vienna Teng. Of course, since it's about a girl who dies in a car crash, I became uber-worried about my wife. This retarded my sleeping efforts even more so.

5. I've had a lot of people hating on me lately. I know what Joy would say.
"Nobody hates you. You take everything too personally." I'm not saying everyone hates me. I'm saying there's been too much shit going on lately, and the stress is really starting to get to me. People blaming me for things, needless tension between people, and nothing going the way it should.

This sounds like just a depression slope. It's not. I'm not usually like this. I think watching nursing school slip through my fingers is what did it. I was trying so hard. Harder than I've ever tried anything. The funny thing is, I'm still going to. Depressed as I am, I'm not going to give up completely, because then I'm just like the post office people. And that scares me more than anything else.

I'm just sick of being so tired from constantly trying so hard, and not seeing the results I need. And it only gets harder from here. If I can get that far.

The Wonders of a Scottish Makeover

One thing that I'm sure we've all noticed lately is the astonishing new hilarity that is made-up names. Especially those with a scottish tone. More specifically, making fun of people and adding "Mc" to their last name. This, as I have found in recent days, has made me laugh so much I nearly pee myself.

I found a few good examples. The easiest way to deploy this tactic is to take physical and/or social traits of said individual and expand on it. For instance:

"Hotty McShaggalot"

"Stupid McFirepants"

"Stinky McGreaseball"

"Spanish McAmerican-Blackwhitey"

(Been married a few times)

"Trailer McWhorebag"

Special Mention, from Sarah...

"Pancakes McSourcream"
or
"Grisham McBacos"

See? It's simple. Hours of entertainment for the whole family.

Judgment Day

So...okay.

I realize that I'm not the most subtle person in the world, but I'm not an asshole, either. Which is why I wanted to put this out there.

Why do I derive so much pleasure from laughing at people I know/knew who (as I come to discover) are leading pointless, farcical existences?

I've been to many sites recently. Mostly out of boredom. These sites are, but are not limited to, Facebook, Myspace, The Milan High School Alumni page, and others. I've come to discover that many people I knew way back when are still employed in childish, obviously ridiculous practices, and either live 3 blocks from where they grew up, or they moved to...like...South Dakota...and have numerous pictures on their site of them...not doing anything.

Now, here's where I attempt to justify myself.

I've mentioned this to people before. What's the inevitable response? "What about You? You still play video games!" This is true. I play video games. So do over 2 billion people on this planet. It's competitive to the porn industry. It's a worldwide hobby that many people enjoy. That's all it is, a hobby. It's NOT, like many people's practices that I'm comparing to, a lifestyle.

When the comparison comes down to me playing video games VS a 30-year-old named Tom with 2 kids having his friends call him "Demetrius" and he wears a black cape and pretends he's a vampire...

I believe there is a sliiiiiiiiiiight diffy.

I don't dress up. I don't carry around 95 swords and insist that my surname is "Destroyer of Worlds". I don't have an entire site devoted to pictures that I've drawn of myself as a superhero or a ninja. I don't write poetry that sounds like Robert Frost's five-year-old son threw up on some parchment.

I got married. I'm planning on having a family. I'm trying to finish school so I can support said family and give them the life they deserve. I believe, in any sense you really can, that I've grown up.

Why do I care about what other people do? I'm sure as shittin' not envious, which is what most people would say. So why is it?

The only thing I can think of is it's a really bad case of sour grapes. These are people who, back in the day, made fun of me for being overweight, or not fitting in, or trying too hard. Now they are doing the same thing: Gaining tons of weight, pretending they are "mysterious" when all they do is sit around all the time, and make-believing they have lives when they don't do...anything.

I feel horrible about the fact that I just spent a good 2 hours scrolling through people's sites and profiles. I'm not normally this judgmental...I don't think.

But even though we all hate to admit it, it gives a feeling of satisfaction that amidst the hardships of your own life, that it could always be worse.

"No, Mr. Bond, I Expect You to Teach Chemistry!"

So...I have a story.
But first, some background information:

My biochemistry teacher is Middle-eastern. I say this not only because I have no idea what country he's from, but more importantly because it's pertinent to my story; he has a very thick Arabic accent. Now, this is not an issue in itself. After two months in his class, I can understand him pretty well.

But there are some issues. For instance, we all learned on the first day of class that he drops some syllables and adds plurals. The most noticeable, and I know this will sound like an exaggeration, he pronounces "Organisms" as "Orgasms".

Blatantly. There is no hearing anything else.

That was humorous for a day or two. But then, when we started getting into compounds and reactions, a new villain emerged. I mean that more than metaphorically.

Now, you know how in all the James Bond movies the villain always calls him "Mr. Bond", and always with that cocky, very deep accent. The one that is never spoken with an American "ah" in "Bond", but a very timpanic, almost "Bohnd" type way. Well...you guessed it, that's how my professor says "bond". So when he says things like "Breaking the bond", or "having a double bond", I instantly picture him in a long, white suit, plotting world destruction.

Today, we have a new development.

In continuation of discussing functional groups of organic compounds (ethers, carboxylic acids, etc.), we came to talking about esters. Specifically, you guessed it, Ester Bonds. Which, in a heavy, foreboding accent...sounds distinctively like "Mister Bond".

In conclusion, for the next 20 minutes, I had to restrain my front row, easily noticed smile whenever he said "Mister Bond". I was like a fourth-grader in Sex-Ed class, chuckling whenever "penis" is uttered.

It was ridiculous, and when you think about it, not even really that funny. But in a world where people joke about crazy "Wouldn't it be funny if..." ideas, this one is filed under "So strange it has to be true."