Uncle Sam Wants You! ..To Read This. (He Also Wants Sexual Favors, But That's a Story for Another Time)

Long ass titles are obnoxious..and hilarious.

You should know, I always write titles last.

I think I forgot to mention something about JournalismGirl. We are pretty good friends now.

Also, she's a heckling ginger.

I'm nonchalantly rubbing my eyes and scanning the room for FratDouche.

"He must have partied too hard last night and is currently perched on bathroom linoleum, head slumped in his porcelain throne" runs through my head because he's nowhere to be found.

Micah isn't here either!

"Maybe Micah and FratDouche got slizzard together. NO, NO NO NO..no." My inner-dialogue is challenged.

I hope it doesn't seem like I'm trying to hard on this post.

But if it does, it's because I am.

My mother informed me she thought my last post was my worst yet.

She said it was shit-garbage and then she banished me from the state.

Not really, but she DID call me a pussy. Love ya too mom.

I'm contemplating ways to punish Micah for not coming to class.

Maybe every time he leaves me stranded, I'll write something slanderous about him in my post.

Then everyone who reads this will go to Starbucks (his place of employment) and proceed to point and laugh at him!

MUHAHAHA!

I only know of maybe 4 people who read this. Ergo, don't point and laugh..you'll just look like 4 freaks who won't be allowed in a Starbucks again. Bad idea, bad.

I suppose I could always just flagellate the kid. Look that shit up.

BUT NOT ON YOUTUBE OR ANYTHING! THAT MIGHT BE SCARY! Just go to Dictionary.com

Guess who just walked in, 22 minutes late..

FratDouche.

It's sick how excited I became when I saw him.

I can't wait to write extremely bitchy things about the guy.

Last night I had a terrorizing dream about being surrounded by giant, freaky eels (à la Flotsam and Jetsam) whilst I sat in the fetal position on a rickety dock. Yikes on bikes. I need a dream catcher.

FratDouche is sitting about 4 rows behind me on the opposite side of the room.

I can't crane my neck to see what he's doing without making myself look like a creep who watches people to write about them in a blog they're unaware of. I wouldn't want to look like that kind of person.

I just laughed out loud because some girl was just barking her opinion to Prof. X and without even listening to what she was saying my inner-dialogue said "if you write about her in your blog, call her MouthyHo."

I'm a serious dick.

THERE'S A VISINE FOR THAT!

Okay, I think I've written enough.

You're probably getting sick of it.

(If you ARE getting sick of it, don't tell me, or I'll kidnap your dog and he will develop Stockholm Syndrome and never want to go back to you)

I love you f*cks.

Bye.

Meh

"Life is tough. Its tougher if your stupid."

My papi taught me to live by these words. Life is tough.

But it could always be worse, as we're learning in Journalism class. Professor X has a variety of demonstrations, thumbscrews, stretching racks, water boarding all in the name of Journalism! Lets face it, the Journalism program is loaded here. The bathrooms of the Journalism building a freaking glorious shrines to urinary satisfaction and relaxation. The tiles were imported (in the name of Journalism) from an Incan temple which nobody really cared about. I didn't believe the rumors I heard, so I went to the bathroom and saw with my own eyes- it was magnificent! Especially in contrast to the Media Arts department bathrooms. I saw a few meth addicts and cocaine deals in a single bowel movement. Yes- I did see them, because the stalls have no doors.

Normally I don't mind relaxing on a toilet in plain sight. But its really hard to do that when the man from under the bridge flashes his gun as he opens the paper bag. It just tenses everything up- which is the opposite of a relaxing bowel movement. Its downright constricting.

We need change.

Did You Miss Me? Of Course Not..

Everyone in class today has a cold, I swear.

*sniffle*

*sniffle*

*cough* *sneeze* *cough*

*sniffle*

Ewww.

Just so you know, I am in class, but I'm not posting this from my computer. This, my friends, is from my iPhone.

So I just turned around to tell Micah how cool this is..and naturally he bashed it and proceeded to hack from his throat. Thanks.

My friend JournalismGirl sits to my right..looking at wedding dressed online. FratDouche is directly in front of me, wearing some beautiful man sweater and chit-chatting with the guy next to him.

Oh, and our professor is lecturing on reporting. It isn't very interesting today, hence the phone blogging.

Everyone needs an Instagram account.
Everyone needs a Twitter account.
Everyone needs a Tumblr account.
Everyone needs a YouTube account.
Everyone needs an OA account.
Everyone has a Facebook account.

Reporters get kidnapped and killed. Maybe I chose the wrong major..

Since we're learning about how journalists sometimes aren't safe because of the things they show or tell..I've decided to go the extra mile with this post.
Here is a quick paparazzi-esque photo of FratDouche:

The Internet Probably Knows You Better Than Your Mother

Our professor just discussed how he "Facebook-stalks" his ex-girlfriend. Nice, bro. We've all been there.

Sorry there were no posts last time. Micah was not here, ergo I was too lonely to post. Now, however, Micah sits at my side like the Lassie to my Timmy. Oh, let's be honest here, he doesn't care about me. He's two seats away playing RuneScape.

I'm starting to not appreciate how much we are watched. Think about it, we use social networking sites to be social, while the second we are in a questionable situation, the government or the law can use your Facebook to track your every move. Privacy is nowhere. It's something we have come to accept, but mostly because we are (in my mind) ignorant to THE POSSIBILITY of having our lives tracked, watched, STUDIED, KNOWN. Everyone has the mentality of "oh, nobody is watching ME," or "I'M not going to ever be in a situation where my internet use sits in front of a judge or jury." Well, guess what? All of us are watched. All of us have too much of our lives, PERSONAL lives, on the internet.

Oh well, at least it's everyone ;)

That was a bitchy paragraph I just wrote. Let me make it up to you.

Hope you enjoyed that.

If you didn't, you're not my friend.

Is everyone loving this autumn? Beautiful, right?

You better love the f*ck out of it because next month it will be frigid, snowy, and dead. Until May.

With that, I do bid thee farewell.

Adieu.

"Penetration is a legit technical term"- Professor X

Doctor X is tackling gaming, online poker, and porn this class period. A.K.A. the internet. Every second $3,075.64 is being spent on porn. There's an industry for you.

"Adam and Eve makes me uncomfortable, and its not even porn! Its just a store that tells dirty stuff" poor professor X... to combat his weakness he's making us watch documentaries on porn- how Journalistic.

The internet was driven by porn, as Yahoo CEO states... "My customers wanna see sex, I'll give it to 'em" this documentary is kinky... Wow the internet is freakin' me out. Dani says "I'm a geek with big breasts", this is awkward. Worse than the time I accidentally let slip the words "yeast infection" to my female substitute teacher- which was bad.

Wow, it seems like this porn thing is driving the world. This is scary. Why do we have to LEARN this?! I'm pretty sure we all suspected it, but to create scientific studies documenting it... now the aliens will know whats up!

Apparently porn is now a teenage rebellion- according to the old people.

Back to professor X- "Penetration is a legit technical term", oh innuendo, how you entertain! However, I must disagree with this viewpoint. When you use the word "penetration" I can no longer take you technically serious- at least not until the giggling subsides.

In 2002 there were over 200,000 pornography businesses online. This number has skyrocketed from there- how would anybody watch that much porn and still be part of society? Yeah I don't know.

Ooh yeah! Society backlashed towards porn, heaven forbid we let the children see this stuff! Lets make internet filters and software blockers! Hell! Why not also make chats for children, they can't see porn, but they can be cyber bullied in a safe environment!

Why is it that our stuck up frat boy is taking copious notes suddenly? He never takes notes! But today his eyes are dialed in, he doesn't want to miss a single bit of sensuous clip art from the powerpoint. Sleazy bastard... I should copy his notes, I haven't been taking them today- the powerpoint is way too riveting.

"We're gonna stop talking about porn" says Professor X; "awww" says the frat boy and every other guy in the class. The women don't say anything- ominous. Hmm, Professor X is talking about blogging now. I hate blogging. Bloggers are so lame. They just spout stupid opinions and assume everybody else should listen. I also hate happiness. People who're happy are douches. Happy people should be sent searching for landmines- with hammers.

Hammers are fun though. I like hammers.

But any who- this lecture is penetrating into my soul, deep stuff, gotta love it.

Do You Know How to Get Single Girls to Post Photos on Facebook?

PORNPORNPORN.

This is today's major topic in Journalism.

PORN.

Ultimately what I am learning from this lecture is technology is helping porn tremendously. Almost every other medium (like newspapers, magazines, movies, radio, television) are hindered by the internet, while porn thrives on it. Pretty much, people in the porn industry are filthy rich and always pleasured.

CAREER CHANGE.

Wow, Micah finished his post and I have barely started.

Have you ever meant to say "barely" and accidentally put "barley?" That's embarrassing.

So, where did Myspace go? I'LL TELL YOU.

Myspace was raped by Facebook. But Facebook wore a tie and said "thank you" so it's okay.

Friendster is still back there scratching its head and LinkedIn is like "I'm Facebook for geezers."

So much personality on the internet, I'm telling ya.

Our professor loves to mention the fact he has a Twitter account and pretty much hates blog. I think it's cool to have a college professor who not only knows what Twitter is, but he USES it. And Facebook. And LinkedIn. But it does somewhat bother me how much he detests blogs. Considering...

I really hate lecture classes. Even if I like the professor, lecture classes just suck like a Hoover. I mean a Dyson, they suck harder.

Since I brought up vacuums, let's remind everyone of the Roomba. Do you remember those? I always wanted one.

(If you remember the Roomba, AND the parody skit on SNL called Woomba then you are amazing. It cleans your lady business.)

Woomba - Cleans your lady business (Roomba... by Eurobotiks

Okay, enough.

I'm off to learn.

I Cannot Handle Statistics About Google and Facebook

Micah was 10 minutes late.

He had me so worried. I was literally thinking "if that goon doesn't show up I will probably spiral into a deep depression and not be able to write a new blog post."

Then he walked in and I went straight to micahcryder.blogspot.com

How has everyone been? Yeah, I do not care. It's not like you would comment on this post and tell me anyway.

F*cks.

Did you know Netscape still had a web browser? Me neither.

GOOGLE CHROME WINS.

Do you want to have an info-gasm?

I'll give you one: look at the picture to the left.

695,000 Facebook status updates EVERY MINUTE.

In case you were wondering, this is beautiful and ridiculous graphic was shown to us by Prof. X. I'm glad he is "in the know."

Today is all about internet again, but basically focused on ONLY web browsers and how crazy popular and filthy rich they are.

Statistics about Google are much too intense for me. They hire 8 new people a day...can you even believe that? Google pwns nOObs.

Our professor just put up the topic list for next class. It goes like this:

-blogging

-porn

-social networks

-security

Excited? I am.

I realize this has probably been the most boring post you've ever read of mine, but hey, I threw in a graphic this time!

So cry your mascara to your chin then wipe it the f*ck up 'cause that looks gross..and get over it.

I'll do something better on Thursday, promise.

Until then, go hug your mother.