Making Fun Of Handicapped People (Is Not The Best Idea)

So it was me, Javier (who appeared in a previous post), and another friend who we'll call Boston. We were hanging out together, painting the town red with our mild-mannered suburban antics and raising Hell for absolutely nobody in particular. In the midst of all this chaotic rule-following, we decided to take a break and made a brief sojourn to a nearby Mcdonald's to fuel our rampant law-abiding ways. Upon entering, we noticed that there was an old wheelchair-bound man wearing camouflage and watching a wall-mounted TV, as well as a couple friends from our school eating in one of the booths. We ordered our food, took a seat and began conversing.

Boston had recently broken his wrist from slipping on a patch of ice fighting a rabid grizzly bear in the frigid winter mountains, and was having some difficulties maneuvering his food. I gave him some lighthearted ribbing for it, which instigated a brief dialogue between myself and Javier.

"You shouldn't make fun of cripples, Johann."

Boston chimed in. "Yeah, it's not my fault I can't hold a burger."

At this point, Javier mentioned a mutual friend of ours, who we'll call Stitch. "You know who would make fun of cripples? Stitch. We were hanging out with Gradie* and Stitch was being such a jerk to him."

Author's note: Gradie is a friend of mine with some sort of physical handicap. I have no idea exactly what it is; I think it's some sort of neural disorder or something, but I've never really listened to him explain it never mind, it's cerebral palsy. He's a nice guy.

Javier's comment made me curious. "What did Stitch say?"

Javier began to explain. "He was looking right at Gradie and he said 'you know, if I could build my own house, I would install an escalator at the front entrance and watch all the crippled people fall down it.' Gradie just looked at him and flipped him off."

We laughed uproariously, mostly because our collective sense of humor is rather obscene. I excitedly exclaimed "Oh my God, it's like that old man GIF I found during English class that one time!"

Boston asked "What old man GIF?"

"Oh, me and Stitch were in a computer lab for English class sometime last year. I Googled 'funny old people' and found a GIF of this guy falling down an escalator."

Being the high school boys we are, we began discussing all sorts of horrible contraptions that could be used to make handicapped people miserable. It was the carefree, ultra-offensive sort of conversation that only a teenager could ever really appreciate. While Javier was sharing a particularly tasteless tale involving suffering handicapped people, the old man in camouflage quietly rolled by us in his wheelchair.

An old man who, now that we got a good look at him, was missing his left foot.

Boston and I slowly turned our heads towards Javier, who had been the one talking while the old man rolled by. Javier got really quiet, cast his gaze down towards the table, and muttered "I feel awful." Being the good friend I am, I comforted him by saying "Yeah...you really should."

I Hate Swimming Goggles

So I have a debilitating fear of being underwater for extended periods of time. I do have a pretty decent lung capacity, if only because I do a lot of singing and they've adapted for that. However, that all goes out the window the moment I'm submerged. My lungs instantly expel whatever air they were holding and I'm left floundering at the bottom of the pool like a guppy with Down Syndrome. This trait would become rather problematic if I were to apply for a job in, say, life guarding, because I can't exactly save a person if I'm too afraid to jump in the water where all the saving is. So obviously I enrolled in a life guarding class at my school. Because I think things through.

Wait! Shit, don't start drowning! I'M NOT QUALIFIED QUIT DOING THAT.

On this particular day, we did a sort of simulation in the pool. The teacher started by taking two large rubber brick-things and tossing them into the water, where they quickly sank to the bottom. Two students would then begin at the opposite side of the pool and swim until they reached their respective brick, where they would dive down and retrieve it. Once in possession of the brick, they would resurface and take it back to their starting point. 

When it came time for me to fetch the brick, I was feeling rather confident. This confidence quickly died, however, when I realized that I was the only person in the 24-student class who wasn't wearing goggles, which is problematic if you're looking for a black brick at the bottom of a dark pool. The teacher yelled for us to start and I began swimming. After making a couple of fruitless efforts to grab the brick, I gave up and exited the pool. 

"Why didn't you grab the brick?" My teacher inquired.

It's dark and underwater and I can't breathe and it's really Goddamn scary down there. "I couldn't see the brick, I don't have goggles." At this point, my friend Charlie piped up and offered to lend me his goggles. The teacher decided that I would simply wait until the rest of the class had finished, then retry along with another girl who had screwed up in some way or another.

I would like to pause for a second and make a request of you, my dear reader. For the sake of a strenuously extended metaphor that I'm going to introduce in the next paragraph, I'd like you to think of these goggles as a person. We'll name him Paul.

Paul is terrible. 

This is Paul if he were a person. I want you to hate him.

It took me a while to figure out Paul because I haven't worn goggles in years. As I fiddled around with his various straps, the teacher surprised me by yelling "GO!" which signified that we were supposed to start swimming for the brick. "Wait, shit, no I'm not ready!" I yelled to nobody in particular. Feeling panicked, I hastily threw the goggles on and began swimming. 

Unfortunately for me, Paul was retarded. Rather than suctioning to my face and keeping my eyes free of water, like he was supposed to, Paul apparently developed a deep-seated fascination with water and began scooping as much of it into my eyes as possible. I was taken aback and promptly resurfaced in an attempt to readjust the goggles. Feeling strapped for time, I hurriedly began swimming towards where I thought the brick would be. When I got in the general vicinity, I aimed myself downward and began searching. 

At this point, Paul had gone a whole 9 seconds without being full of water, and he was none too happy about it. The moment I spotted my brick, Paul promptly detached from my face and began prodding me in the eye. My vision blurred instantly, and where there was once the dark outline of my brick, there was now nothing but opaque fuzziness. I was determined to keep swimming until I grabbed the brick, and my mental voice picked up an authoritative tone as it tried to keep me motivated. Come on Johann, conquer your fears! My fingers finally found purchase on the slick exterior of the brick. Victory!, my mental voice yelled...which was quickly followed by oh, shit you're out of air get up now GET UP NOW. 

I resurfaced with my brick in hand and Paul hanging about uselessly on my forehead. I muttered "Jesus Christ," and quickly tore Paul off my face. After finally completing the exercise, I exited the pool. At this point, something odd happened. I wouldn't consider myself popular by any means, and I certainly don't know many people in my life guarding class. But when everybody began regrouping for the next part of the class, random students started interacting with me. One guy slapped me on the back, a particularly attractive girl gave me a high five and yelled "good job!" before giggling with one of her friends. I was confused. Did I do something wrong? Are they making fun of me? WTF. 

While holding this brief mental exchange with myself, Charlie rejoined me and enlightened me as to why random people had suddenly started acknowledging me. "Yeah dude, when you tore the goggles off and yelled 'Jesus Christ,' everybody just started laughing their asses off. It was hilarious." I had no idea how to respond to this, so I simply handed Paul back to Charlie and didn't respond at all. As I walked a few paces behind him, I noticed Paul was dangling nonchalantly from Charlie's fingers, almost as if he was mocking me. I returned with a menacing gaze. 

Fuck you, Paul.

The Statue of Liberty On a Pogo Stick

Today, I faced a moral conundrum when faced with the decision of whether or not to steal a pogo stick.

Allow me to explain. For a variety of reasons, it's extremely difficult for me to park my car anywhere within half a mile of my school without being ticketed and/or towed. Because of this, I've resorted to parking in an out-of-the-way little parking lot behind a small shopping center, which is across the street and a little bit down the road from my school. It was sometime in the afternoon, and I was returning to my car from a rehearsal for the school play. As I waited at the streetlight to cross the aforementioned street, I noticed that there was a blue pogo stick leaning against an electrical box on the other side of the street.

'Sup.

Intrigued, I hurried over to examine it. Ye Gods, I thought to myself. A lonesome little pogo stick, abandoned and yearning for a new home! I must give it shelter posthaste! (Yes, I actually think in that voice. Shut up.) I picked it up and began using it as an impromptu walking stick, and I can't even begin to describe how happy it made me. I was preparing to simply walk away with the thing when I started having doubts. Why is this just sitting here? Is it like a trap? Am I being recorded? Maybe the police planted this pogo stick as a ruse to catch any would be pogo thieves! 

This is what you get for your thievery, you little bastard!

I called up a friend (we'll just say his name is Javier, for the sake of anonymity) and described my moral dilemma to him. 

"I mean, maybe somebody left it here, you know? If I don't take it, someone else will, and then I won't have a pogo stick!" 

"That's a pretty tough call," Javier stated.  

I continued. "What if somebody just left it here for 5 minutes? I mean, I don't wanna accidentally steal it if the person will be back for it, but on the other hand...it's a pogo stick man! I can't just leave it here!"

"What would you even do with a pogo stick?" He asked. 

"Pfft, I have no idea. I'll learn how to pogo or something!"

"I don't think thats a verb-"

"Shut up."

Javier was apparently in his car at the time and was about to drive right by the intersection where I was situated. Since he was in a hurry, he couldn't exactly stop and talk, so I kept a lookout for his car. I figured I could show it to him as he passed by and he could better evaluate the situation.

While Javier and I deliberated on the phone, a woman with a rather frightening collection of teeth in her mouth ran up to me. "Hey, that's mine!" she exclaimed. She made a quick grab for the pogo stick, which I somewhat reluctantly relinquished. She began hurriedly speaking to me. "Hey, thanks man."

"Yeah, no worries. Why did you leave a pogo stick here?"

"Oh, I was jumping on it while dressed as the statue of liberty!"

".....What?"

At that precise moment, a tall black man arrived, dressed as the statue of liberty and carrying a large sign. He stood at the street corner and began dancing excitedly while twirling the sign. "My coworker," she stated rather matter-of-factly. I finally realized that she was one of those God-awful mascots who stands on the corner while twirling a sign and making you feel absolutely awful for them. I awkwardly excused myself and began walking towards my car. Javier was apparently still on the phone and had overheard everything. "I just drove by and saw that entire exchange."

"Dude, I have no idea what just happened, I'm gonna go home and mourn the loss of my pogo stick."

Which is exactly what I did. 

POGO! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO, POGO?!

Why I've Been Neglecting My Blog

I trekked diligently through the snowy forest. Sword in one hand and a softly glowing fireball in the other, I slowly maneuvered my way around a rock, breath bated as I waited for any telltale signs of my opponent. A quick glance behind me confirmed that my horse was still present, his glowing red eyes acting as beacons in the winter fog. I quickly reviewed my inventory, made mental notes of what would and wouldn't be effective. Steeling myself, I gathered my courage and stepped out from behind the rock.

Immediately upon exiting the relative safety behind the boulder, my opponent made himself known. He smashed down into the dirt, his great maw agape as he shrieked his terrible battle cry. I shouted back, a gout of fire erupting from my mouth and engulfing the beast in flames. This didn't phase him; indeed, it only seemed to piss him off. The beast spread his wings, puffed out his chest in a show of intimidation, then proceeded to charbroil me with his fire breath. Blinded by flames, I flailed my sword and shot fireballs in every direction. I screamed incoherent obscenities, and when the fire finally subsided, I sheathed my sword and ran.

WTF I THOUGHT I WAS FIGHTING A DRAGON. THIS IS SO MUCH MORE TERRIFYING.

I sprinted for dear life, my breath labored as the biting cold wind chilled my exposed skin. I was woefully under-equipped for this dragon, and figured my best strategy would be to mount my horse and ride for the nearest town, where the guards who were stationed there could help me defeat this flying menace. Unfortunately, my horse was nowhere to be found. My heart dropped into my stomach as I looked about in a panicked frenzy. Looking back to where I last saw the dragon, my worst fears were confirmed. There, through the trees, was my trusted horse...kicking the shit out of the dragon.

"Yes horsie, yes!" I cheered and hollered as my mighty steed neighed and launched a series of ferocious kicks at the dragon. My horse seemed to be winning the fight...until the dragon set my horse on fire.

"No horsie, no! GOD DAMNIT!" Anger overcame all rational thought. With weapon and spell in hand, I charged forward to attack the dragon. Once I closed the distance between us, I began striking at his muscle-bound haunches, hoping to perhaps cripple the beast, or at the very least, break through his scales. The dragon, noticing my futile efforts, looked back at me and seemed to smile.

Then he slapped me with his tail, off the 1000 ft mountain upon which we were situated, and into a field. I didn't survive.

Lol n00b.

"FFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed and dropped my controller in frustration. My dogs gave me a quizzical look.

"Shut up!" I yelled, at which point the dog resumed her peaceful slumber. I muttered to myself in barely-contained homicidal rage.

"Stupid piece of garbage sonofabitch Goddamn Skyrim dragons always showing up at the worst times."

After a bit of ranting, I heaved a sigh and slowly ran my fingers through my hair. Then I paused did it again. My hair, which is normally rather hair-like in its texture, was slick with oils and grease. I looked down at my clothes, trying to remember how many days it had been since I last changed. Hell, I couldn't even remember the last time I showered. I checked my breath and discovered that I smelled about as good as my dog, which is a bad thing.

"Good God," I muttered. "What happened to me?"

I was revolted. Since when was my personal hygiene so atrocious? I cast my gaze about, wondering what could have gone wrong...until my eyes alighted on the TV.

My character, alone, sitting upon his horse and staring stoically into the distance. A Dark Elf with an inclination towards magic and archery. The same character that I had been staring at for the past week.

I was horrified. "You son of a bitch, you stole my life!" I turned off the xbox, looked at a calendar and realized that about half my winter break had passed by me in a Skyrim-filled haze. I mourned the passage of time, showered, brushed my teeth, then tried to find something to do. After realizing that all of my friends were too busy to hang out with me, I resigned myself to another night of Skyrim. A night that slowly extended into another 3 days of dragon slaying and magical Shouting.

And that's why I haven't posted on my blog in a while.

My Latest Excuse For Not Posting in Ages

Right, so here's the deal. I haven't posted anything here in God knows how long, as you may have noticed. Life has been a maelstrom recently and I've been terrifically busy trying to keep my head above the water. I've neglected my blog like an abandoned little orphan, and the only excuse I can give is...

Skyrim.

Rest assured, my dear and devoted readers (all 3 of you), I will catch you all up on my incredibly interesting life and fill you in as to why I've been such a fat lard when it comes to posting. The short answer is Skyrim, but the long answer is...not much better than that, actually, but I'm going to take several posts to explain it all. Know that I am bursting with stories, and since my fanbase is undoubtedly full of impossibly sexy and sophisticated individuals who truly deserve to hear of my miraculous tales, the next few weeks will bear witness to a veritable tsunami of blog posts, the likes of which have probably been seen by people who are much more consistent with posting than I am.

Suit Buttons

One day, I was frollicking through a fanciful meadow. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and a variety of other tropes helped to really set the scene. As I bounded with glee and made merry with the creatures of the forest, a mysterious being came to visit.

"Wait, weren't you just in a meadow?" The thing inquired.

"What?"

"You were just in a meadow, now you're in a forest."

...

The thing paused awkwardly at my inability to stay consistent. "Right...well. Anyway. Johann! Behold, I am a creature sent from the Netherworld! I have come to you with a mighty quest that you must undertake!"

I shuddered in terror and awe. The creature continued. "Heed my words! A social situation has arisen that shall require you to wear this suit!" With that, the creature produced a suit and threw it at me.

The strange thing watched passively as I donned my new-found suit. It shook its head in shame as I awkwardly struggled to tie a tie, a process which was completely unfamiliar to me and left me feeling like a failure. When I was finally done, an award-winning grin adorned my face. My excitement was palpable.

Excitement: Palpable.

The thing looked me over with a critical eye, slowly evaluating my appearance. When it saw my suit jacket buttons, it shrieked an unholy demon cry. "What the HELL do you think you're doing?!"

"...what?"

"You're buttons! YOU BUTTONED BOTH YOUR BUTTONS."

"I...was I not supposed to?"

"Oh for God's sake, are you serious? NO."

"But why not?"

"Your suit looks weird with both its buttons done!"

I was starting to get upset. "Well why would they put 2 buttons on the front and then design the whole thing to look weird if you do both buttons?!"

"DAMNIT, DON'T QUESTION MY ARBITRARY FASHION RULES."

"But then your tie pokes out from under your jacket and it just looks weird!"

Our dialogue continued along this path for quite a while. Eventually, the being began to scream at my unforgivable fashion gaffe, its keening voice rising in volume until reality shuddered and it warped out of existence. I was dazed and confused, but I never undid that second button. Instead, I decided to keep it buttoned every time I wear a suit, turning my lack of understanding into an act of defiance.

I want a suit with this many buttons.

Wisdom Through Movement

Here's a video of my philosophy final. The project was as follows: Pick a philosophy/philosopher, become familiar with their teachings and present it to the rest of the class. I chose Parkour because that was one of the few topics that I didn't actually need to research as I already knew most of the pertinent information.