Don't Sublet Your Room

So this summer I decided to sublet my room in Amherst since I wouldn't be living there.  I found a real nice girl, and she subletted it from me and it was going great.  Then the class she was taking got canceled and so she had to resublet the room to another person.  She subletted it to some girl that is like studying here or doing something.  This girl sucks.  She is the worst.

I was up at Amherst this past week for an orientation, blah blah blah.  Anyway, we went out to the bars and I came home around 1:30.  Now I am sleeping upstairs on the couch obviously because my room is being subletted. Anyway, around 2:30 am this fucking idiot and some guy she is with barge through the door and go down stairs.  Within 3 seconds, she has her music on at full frankin volume.  It was absurd.  I waited like a half hour to see if this See You Next Tuesday would figure out that she's retarded and maybe turn it down.  She didn't.

I decided to go down stairs and ask her to.  I knocked on the door, and she opens it, "Yes?"  Mind you this is 3 am.  "Um can you turn down the music? Or at least the bass? I can literally feel it upstairs."  "Oh okay."  Problem solved...or so I thought.  She turned it down for literally 8 seconds, then turned it back up to almost the same volume.  Did she just try to trick me?  Like, was she trying to recalibrate my ears into thinking she just turned it down?  Maybe this is just a dream.  It wasn't. 

For the next half hour, I lay on my uncomfortable couch, listening to pounding bass and the subtle moans of this gross 75 lb girl get doinked by her scum bag friend.  Awesome.  Finally, around 3:30, after sexfest has wrapped up, I just started pounding my feet on the floor until she turned the music down.  Yay! I can sleep.

UPDATE:  I decided to venture into my room looking for an iron and this is what she has in her room:

• 3 cacti
• 6 candles
• a huge bong
• 15 sticks of incense 
• 4 plants
• one gigantic dream catcher
• something that looked like a pile of leather scraps
• pictures of her hanging exactly where I had pictures of myself
• one leg from a mannequin

One Leg from A Mannequin?!  Who the fuck is this girl?!  Get the fuck out of my room!!!!

Southie and Jorts

Southie is an interesting place.  It has a nice beach, some nice places to live, and some really "nice" people.  The reason I put nice in quotations is because I didn't actually mean nice.  I meant absurd. 

This morning, I was walking out of my favorite Dunkin Donuts in the world (got my same breakfast for $5.08 today and $5.85 yesterday) and I had to walk past two groups of guys on the way back to my car.  Between the two groups, there were 9 guys, 5 in one and 4 in the other.  Between those 9 guys...there were 5 pairs of jorts!! 3 in one group and 2 in the other!! 5 pairs of jean shorts between 9 guys!!! That's...that's... uhh... 55% of the group! (had trouble finding my calculator. 

That 55% is just staggering.  I mean you've got to assume that only 10% of the world's population even owns jorts so to think that this group is at 5.5 times the world wide percentage is just ridiculous.  Now from a distance, I was very surprised to see such a collection of these fashionable duds, but as I got closer, and was able to hear their conversations, it made more sense to me why they were wearing jorts.


The first group I walked by, 4 guys, 2 jorts, 50% jortification, was honestly dropping N Bombs like it was their jobs.  Now, I'm sure no one was actually paying them for it, but if they were, they'd make a good living.  I mean, I could hear their conversation for about 9 seconds and I'm pretty sure I heard 4 Ns.  Keep in mind, this is just outside of DD's on a busy street where I saw a couple of black guys just a few minutes earlier.  Hmm..

The second group I walked by, 5 guys, 3 jorts, 60% jortification, wa on a different topic but equally as unsurprising.  Parole.  "This fucking bitch kept me from getting paroled for 6 months" was the exact line I walked by and heard.  What a bitch.  You mean to tell me, some piece of shit kept you in the clink where you were unable to show off your jorts!  I hope he shanked her with a shiv when he got out.  Or do you shiv someone with a shank?  I dunno. 

All I know is that Jorts + Parole + N Bombs = Southie.  Thank god today is my last day at my internship.

NBC- I Hate You

So, as you all know, I've been working at my unpaid internship for the past few months.  These guys here are awesome, really laid back, and all that stuff so while I'm doing my work I'll have an episode of House or Law and Order on in the background and they won't give a who.  Now of course, I would never pay for any of these episodes myself so I download them illegally like any normal guy.  I use bittorrent which is a great program.  Last Thursday night I decided to download season 1 of Modern Family (amazing show by the way) and I forgot to close the program.

Anyway, I bring my computer to work Friday, as I do everyday, go online, do my work and all that ish.  I leave work on Friday and head to the airport to go to Pittsburgh for the weekend.  On my way to the airport I get an email that my boss forwarded to me from our internet provider stating that their were notifications of copyright infringement on our IP address because someone was sharing files illegally.  The files were House Season 6 and Law and Order SVU Season 11.  SHIT.

The email just says, delete the files, don't do it again, blah blah blah.  Then I get a call from my boss and he sounds not happy.  He tells me that NBC just called him and they need a call back by 5 PM Monday to find out why our organization is sharing their files and if they don't hear from us they will take the proper actions, AKA, a lawsuit or criminal charges.  FUCK.

So I spend half of my day Friday researching online how often NBC sues for copyright infringement.  I only saw three stories so that wasn't too bad.  I spent the other half trying to figure out how I'm going to pay off $100,000 in fines/lawsuits with my $300 bank account.  That one I never came up with an answer for. 

Anyway, I come to work today and go over to my boss and he says, I don't really want to look at you right now, just go sit down, I need to call NBC. OMG.  So he calls NBC, asks for Mark Simmons, and I hear him saying things like, "It was only two files.  You can't even prove who it was.  How am I going to come up with that kind of money?"  He hangs up and comes over to me and says, "Well, we need $20,000 by Friday or they're going to take criminal actions."  He proceeded to follow this statement up with, "Punked!"  FUCK ME.

Awesome, I just spent this weekend on vacation, freaking out because I thought I just ruined this company and my career.  Not only that, how the fuck was I going to write a 20 page paper about an internship that ended with the company being owned by NBC.   AH!

UPDATE: The email from the ISP was real, they really got notifications of copyright infringement.  Everything else was fake.  This is for clarification.  

Attack of the Killer Caterpillar!

Ok, so I'm driving home from my internship the other day.  I'm on the highway moving slowly along in traffic wearin some killer shades.  Out of the corner of my eye I see something crawling across my sunglasses.  I freak out and slap my self in the face.  Turns out, I'm just an idiot.

This killer, poisonous beast which I assume is a caterpillar turns out to just be a bus passing me in the HOV lane.  What the fuck is wrong with me?

Three Things

So this past weekend was interesting to say the least.  It was chuck full of things I never thought would ever happen but there were three things that really stuck out in my mind.

1)  I have a friend that works for Puma and so he get's some free stuff here and there and he hooked me up with a ridiculous pair of sneakers.  So first thing that I thought would never happen: Me wearing gold sneaker, yet I did it and here they are. Nice.
 

2) I was driving down the highway and pulled up next to a guy my age, maybe a little older, driving a Porsche in the slow lane goin about 55 MPH.  And what do I see on his hands? Driving gloves.  Yes, I said it, driving gloves.  Are you flopping kidding me with that sheesh?  I thought that was the kind of thing that only happened in movies, like pajama party pillow fights, winning shopping sprees at Toys R Us, or finding a thumbtack in your cereal (oh wait, that happened).  But I guess I was wrong.  I actually saw the arrogant, peepee touching, d-bag that would wear driving gloves in his Porsche.  To be honest, it was a life changing event.



3)  Last but not least, this was also a great weekend for my summer baseball team.  The Braintree White Sox, with the help of Hall of Fame Follower, PJ Thompson, also the team's GM, won the Amateur Baseball North Atlantic Regional Tournament and are now headed to the Amateur Baseball World Series in Houston, TX.  Fuckin nutsos.  The White Sox, now 35-5 on the season, just did straight up poopoos on the Worcester Blue Sox in the championship game, beating them 14-0.  This came just shortly after a game against the Foxboro Frankfurters in which stud pitcher Adam T (me) went a whole 3 innings before pooping his pants and letting them back in the game.  My b.  Thankfully, Shtom Shmuddleston, who you might remember from, Gross Hair Gets The Girl,  made one of the best plays I have ever seen, throwing a runner out at home in the bottom of the 7th to save the game. 

All in all, this was a great weekend.  Gold Shoes, Driving Gloves, World Series.  Boomhouser.

Sorry, That's Just Not Me.

So I'm walking down the street the other day to get lunch and this girl turns a corner and starts walking in front of me.  She was pretty cute and all that but then something caught my attention.  She had the price tag on her shirt still on and in plain sight.  Now this, of course, amused me because I'm a jerk and I love when people look like idiots.  I'm sure most of you would have been like, excuse me but you have a tag on your shirt.  But to be honest, I'm just not that type of person.

If you have a tag on your shirt, something in your teeth, or bad breath, trust me I'm not going to tell you.  I don't know why, but that's just not me.  I'd rather you suffer the embarrassment of walking around looking like an idiot than me feel just that tiny bit of awkwardness when I tell you.  Especially when it comes to bad breath.  I'd rather just stop talking to you then tell you.

When it came to the tag tho, I was also being kind to everyone else she might encounter that day.  Because if I enjoyed seeing her like that then I'm sure other people would too, and who am I to steal the joy out of their day.  That's just not who I am.  I'm a joy giver, not a joy taker awayer.  (what?)   Anyway, bottom line is, if you look like/smell like an idiot when you encounter me, good chance you'll look/smell like an idiot afterwards.

Zee end.