I just heard the strangest, most pathetic news. I couldn’t believe it, it was that ridiculous. And this even beats the story where that one guy tried robbing a gas station but there wasn’t much money in the register so he tied up the cashier and ran the register himself for a couple hours. That’s nothing compared to what I just heard. So hang on, you might want to sit down for this. Of all the completely useless things people can waste their time on, I found out that somebody actually reads my blog. (Oh, and if you’re reading this, you know who you are.)
While I’m in the mood to make fun of myself, here’s some more convincing evidence that I don’t have a life.
-Half of the people that call me at work were trying to reach a different Josh.
-In any given day I can be called any combination of the names of my three siblings.
-I’ll likely share a bunk bed with my little brother until the day I buy my own house.
-Most of my socks are hand-me-downs.
-I got called stupid by a 7 year old girl.
-Someone was complaining to me about having to stare at a computer screen all day. I stare at one all week, all month, and…well you get the idea.
-Everyone is always nice to me; people are never nice to people they like.
-I’m one of only a handful of people in the world who think video games are boring.
-I’ll interrupt a conversation to point out a sign that says Deli Chicken Donuts.
-I instant message my brother at 11 pm while he’s about five feet away from me.
I can bench press almost as much as my little sister. I have blond whiskers that grow slower than a White Cedar tree (holds the record for slowest growing tree). I can dribble a basketball with the skill of a Dodo bird. I have no clue how a car engine works; I took a geek test and it came out positive; I never get in trouble and I can’t stay up at night. I’ve never drank milk right out of the carton, gotten a tattoo, totaled a car, or been in jail. I never played sports in school and I don’t watch them on tv. I drive the speed limit, and my car wouldn’t go very fast if I tried. I don’t start fights and I don’t have any cool scars to show off. I’m shy and I’m scared of heights, blood, and the dark. I have a desk job and I like it. And to top it off, I make fun of myself in my own blog.
So please, don’t nobody keep telling me that I do things to be macho.
Once upon a time…well okay last night…I went out with some friends to get something to eat. We decided to go to Subway, only to find that they were out of bread. Who woulda thought that Subway would be out of bread? Anyway, next on the list was Pizza Hut so we marched over there. Since I can never make up my mind, I took a vote on what kind of food I should get. I first narrowed it down to everything that has a picture—I gotta see a picture of something before I order it. Well the poll came out unanimous for the Chicken P…Pr…..Prim……um, one of those Italian words that I can never remember how to pronounce. The picture looked good, so I took the challenge and found that it tasted every bit as good as it looked. It filled me up pretty well too.
But then the horror was unleashed, and the war started. The waiter brought us the bill and I raced to get it before anyone else was able to pay for it. I struggled unsuccessfully through the vicious crowd with everybody tearing at my shirt to hold me back, while they tossed around the bill to keep it from me. I lunged, twisted, and dived, desperately trying so fulfill the objective, and I hurled myself without any respect for my own body and managed to grasp the object with my fingertips. I seized the target with every ounce of strength that I could muster, and struggled to free myself from my oppressors. When I had managed to work myself free, I sprinted to the checkout register, threw my hand into my back pocket and pulled out………..nothing. After all the pain and effort of capturing the bill into my custody, not a thing could have saddened me more than to find that I had left my wallet at home. In disbelief, I felt around once more in my pocket for the chance that there was something there, but again found nothing. By this time the mob was already upon me, but there was no longer anything that I could do. They overtook me, and snatched the bill from my hand. I watched in unconceivable horror as they happily paid for my food, and I sunk into a sad pile of misery. It almost hurts sometimes to have such nice friends.
I didn’t think much of it when the phone rang. Nobody really calls me anyway. So I was a little surprised when my mom gave me the phone and said it was a girl that wanted to talk to me. She also asked me if I was going to be home for lunch, figuring that the person on the phone wanted to go out. I was clueless, so I just grabbed the phone to find out who it was. The girl on the phone was someone I had never even met before. But she turned out to be quite forward, and got right to the point. So forward, in fact, that the only word I managed to get in edgewise was, “Okay.” The one-way conversation lasted less than thirty seconds, but in that time we managed to set up a date for the next day. I couldn’t even remember what her name was, but when the time came I headed over to the Wal-Mart Optical center for my appointment.
My friends and I decided to go for ice cream, so I drove us all to Culvers. After a few minutes of listening to them argue about what kind of ice cream to get, I made up my mind that I didn’t want to be the one doing the ordering at the drive thru. So I began stirring up this crazy idea in my mind, and once we got to Culvers I stopped and put the car in reverse. My friends thought I was crazy…until I pulled right up to the drive thru speaker backwards and let the one in the passenger seat worry about the order. Then they knew I was crazy. I got some pretty scary looks from my friends and I got punched in the shoulder a few times because they didn’t like everybody staring at us, but at least I saved myself all the trouble.
Have you been planning the death of a loved one lately? Has that special someone really been getting on your nerves? Been polishing up that 9mm and charting out your evil scheme to escape from the law when it’s over? Well worry yourself no further. Recent studies have shown that murder can be done simply by going to court and telling the judge that you want this person starved to death. With legal murder, there’s no need to waste a bullet or even get your hands dirty. Thanks to all those who helped make every murderer’s dream a reality.
I had a business meeting today with a couple of computer programmers. The meeting went really well, and we discussed everything we needed to discuss. But after the meeting, one of the programmers came to me and asked right out, “Do you hack?” I took a split second to think about the sneaky process of breaking into computer systems, called hacking (which often requires a lot of programming skills, and is in a lot of cases illegal). I wondered why he would be so open about it, and I wondered even more why he would ask me, since I don’t really do much programming yet. So after all things were considered in my mind, I intently replied, “…What??” He repeated, “Do you hack?” and reached over and pulled out, what else but….a Hacky Sack, or Footbag as some people call them. How ironic, I thought, and spend the next few minutes, um… hacking.
I think I just figured out why cats get run over by cars so often. You see, they’re trying to prove to their friends that cars will always move out of the way when they run out into the street. On my way in to work, I came across two cats on the side of the road. One of them ran out onto the road just as I was going by. Sure enough, I swerved to the other side of the road to avoid hitting him, confirming his theory that a car will never run into a cat. However, from my own research I’ve found that in most cases a car will never swerve away from the same cat twice. So next time that cat isn’t going to be quite so lucky.
I carried a wooden plank as I walked up the hill.
My hand received a splinter; I winced, but continued uphill.
The rugged plank I carried bumped hard into my head.
I thought of giving up, but I proceeded on instead.
Further up the beaten path, I stubbed my toe on a rock.
I tripped, fell, and scraped my knee; in shame, I would no longer walk.
Then a strange man came up to me, who seemed of good cheer.
He said, “Consider it joy; testing helps you persevere.”
I stared at him in disbelief, and thought, If only he knew,
The full extent of my struggle, and all I was going through.
I wanted him to feel what I felt, and let him taste my pain.
I dropped my wooden plank, and tied him to it with a chain.
I held my cry when I poked my finger on a crown made of thorns,
As I shoved it deep into his head, and laughed at him with scorn.
My hand was cut and bled as I mercilessly whipped the man.
I bit my tongue when I spat in his face, the pain I couldn’t stand.
A loud moan I could not contain when I hit my thumb with the mallet,
While driving the nails into his hands, enjoying his torment.
I sneered and said, “Consider this joy,” as I thrust a spear in his side.
I knew I had taught him a lesson, and I laughed at him with pride.
But then he spoke those terrible words that pierced my heart deeply.
Never before had anything been said that hurt me so severely.
While he hung up on my cross, his face all black and blue,
He looked into my eyes, and he said, “I forgive you.”