Currency conversion

Every country needs to have their own currency, and while I don’t quite have my own country (yet) that doesn’t mean I can’t have my own currency. Not owning a country never stopped Monopoly or Chuck E Cheese from creating a money system. My aim is to put a new meaning to the term “currency conversion.” I know people might not be too quick to give up their dollars and euros, but I hope that the masses will see the logic in my system and slowly convert to Ramens.

While coming just short of broke while paying the rent on my apartment, I inevitably learned the value of Ramen noodles. When faced with the choice between a bag of chips or a month’s worth of noodles, I quickly determined that eating to live is much more economical than living to eat. I also discovered that Ramen is one of the only diets where you can pretty much live off of the nickels you find on the ground. So I started using Ramens to gauge how much things are worth. For example, a pack of gum could be worth roughly 4 Ramens. Two scoops of ice cream at Culver’s is worth about 25 Ramens. When we move on to more expensive items like, say, a car, the numbers start getting bigger. A typical small car can cost upwards of 100,000 Ramens. So I created a larger unit of Ramens equal to a year’s worth of noodles. Using Ramen Years, that same car would cost about 760 Ramen Years.

If everyone converted to my currency, it would be so much simpler for everyone. And unlike paper bills, the money would actually be worth something. Maybe if I save up enough Ramens I could finally buy myself that country I’ve been wanting.

Update 8/23/2016: It’s happening!

Free the mints!

The best part of eating at Pizza Hut has always been the little peppermints you get after the meal. The sweet, round candies with an angelic flavor that leaves a fresh taste in your mouth. But the worst decision Pizza Hut has ever made was a while ago when they decided to switch out the peppermints with their wicked, evil twin, cinnamints. While virtually identical to peppermints, innocent and attractive on the outside, on the inside they are really strong and bitter. What’s even worse is that they have a thin, deceitful layer of peppermint to fool people into thinking that they’ve got the real thing. But as soon as the sugar-coated lie wears off and exposes the filth underneath, they see the malicious treat for what it really is and are immediately turned away. The once happy customer then leaves the restaurant unsatisfied and with a bad taste in their mouth.

We can’t let this go on. We must band together and fight the oppression of the cinnamints. Sign the petition and make a difference. Cinnamon mint is an oxymoron. Bring back the peppermints!

Compliments of Donita

My girlfriend compliments me all the time. Somehow she just has a way of making me feel loved.

“The only reason people come over to your house is because of your tv.”

“Your eyes look like a baby girl ant’s eyes.”

“Eww, your calf muscles are kind of deformed.”

“You’re not very good at batting or fielding, but you’re pretty good at running.”

“I like your hair…but you need a haircut.”

“Your tongue is fat.”

“You have huge bags under your eyes.”

“I hope you’re not charging them much for taking their wedding pictures.”

Cable guy

Having dual monitors is pretty sweet, but if you don’t have the cables to plug them into your computer you don’t really get the full effect. So I ordered a couple cables online and as soon as they arrived I plugged in the first one and was excited to hear the dramatic “phfip” sound when it lit up. I plugged in the second one and waited for the phfip. And I waited a little longer. When I finally realized that there wasn’t going to be a phfip, and after testing the cable with different configurations, I determined that it was a faulty cable.

The company gladly sent me a replacement cable, but again no phfip (that sounds like some kind of bad word, now that I think about it). With two out of three cables not working, I decided to call the company to see what was up. I told the operator that I was having a problem with a cable. I’m still not sure what language he was speaking, but he transferred me to this other guy who then transferred me to another guy. If I didn’t know any better I would have thought I was the victim of some Arabian terrorist group or something. So the last guy I talked to, hereafter referred to as the “cable guy” (no pun intended) started getting all defensive when I told him that I had two faulty cables. He said something about how they couldn’t afford to send me any more replacements and there’s no way the cables could be defective. Then he said in a perfect Arab accent, “I bet you a hunnerd dollar dat it’s not de cable.”

I would have laughed in his face and took him up on his offer, but I didn’t really feel like being tortured by an Arabian terrorist cable guy.

Fame and misfortune

I always wanted to be famous, but I never thought it would hit me quite this hard. As I walked into the hospital, I thought I would have some fun with the receptionist, so I was like, “Um…I kind of…got hit by a car.” I was sort of expecting the usual wide-eyed, dropped-jaw response, but instead what I got was, “Hey, you’re the guy that got hit by that midget car in the parade, aren’t you?” Apparently news travels faster than a guy limping to the hospital.

Update: 6-15-06
“What really happened”

I was watching the Butterfest parade, and when the guys driving the little midget cars came by I was like, “ooo, I want one!” Little did I know that one would indeed end up in my lap.

Apparently the steering column broke, pointing the car full speed in my direction. I was left with little more than a bruised foot, but you shoulda seen the divot he left in the ground. The head dude of the organization called me later to make sure that I was okay. He was like, “Those things are bound to happen,” and he didn’t even offer to pay for my x-ray.

In baseball, if somebody gets hit by the ball they get to keep the ball. The way I see it, that car should be mine.

Mixed emotions

I was driving along minding my own business when this maniac kamikaze skunk wedged himself under my front tire. It brought back memories of the squirrel (rest his soul) until I realized, “Oh stink, I just killed a skunk.” I was filled with mixed emotions of grief (my beautiful car smells like T-Rex poo) and joy (finally something to cover up the smoke smell in my garage). And obviously my little sister didn’t know what to think either when she said later that day, “Mmm, your car smells nice.”

Just pretend

The average Joe will tell you that treadmills are useless because people who own them never use them. I’m going to argue with this way of thinking, but not in the way that you might expect. Treadmills are a mistake, not because they’re never used, but because they exist in the first place.

Let’s take a look at the subject in question. A treadmill is a virtual reality device that artificially simulates a cardiovascular activity that involves moving the feet (AKA walking). To say the same thing in non-technical terms, YOU DON’T NEED A TREADMILL TO WALK. Buying a $300-$1000 machine to walk on is like typing on a keyboard with gold plated chopsticks when your fingers work just fine. Or like pretending that Jesus is sitting in the chair next to you when he’s already in the air that you’re breathing. Why just pretend to walk when you can have the real thing?

Despite how worthless the treadmill is, I still admire the guy who invented it. How many other people could take a simple, essential, everyday activity such as walking and turn it into a billion dollar market? The sad thing though, is not that people shell out money for the equivalent of nothing, but that with or without a treadmill people are too lazy to even just walk to the mailbox.


I just heard about the new cordless jump rope. It’s supposed to help clumsy people from tripping on the rope. It definitely sounds like a solution to the problem, but I’m wondering what a “jump rope” should be called without the rope. Just “jump”? But then if you only pretend to jump over the pretend rope, you don’t even need to jump. So if there’s no rope and no jump, what should it be called?

It’s not what you think

I received a frantic call from my girlfriend the other day. She told me that her water broke and that she needed to use my bathroom immediately. I wasn’t about to interfere with an emergency, so I let her use the bathroom. She seemed pretty worried because the emergency personnel weren’t going to come until the next day. But it’s all worth it now, because the plumbing at her house is fixed and she once again has running water.

Disorderly Conduct Vol 2

Losing track of my mind:

I lost track of time as I was getting ready for work this morning. I started running to work so I wouldn’t be late until I realized that I was going to be 15 minutes early.


The central city of the universe

[out in]:
A commonly used phrase that ironically makes sense when used right.

What I’ve learned today:

Out in the country, you can never walk more that thirty-four feet without someone asking if you want a ride. In town you have to wave your arms around for thirty-four minutes before someone finally asks you, not for a ride, but for directions.