Wednesday, August 26, 2009

100% more filling!

In honor of the beginning of the New College 09-10 year (and the fact that I write slower than a sloth fucks), here is a piece I wrote February 3rd, 2005. My basic arithmetic tells me that this was written little over 4.5 years ago, which also tells me that I need to drag my basic arithmetic out back and beat it with a sack full of doorknobs for reminding me of this depressing fact. I wrote this piece during my stay in Pei 2nd court in the room upstairs and across from the ice machine and laundry room. I don't remember the room number at the moment, but that's likely because I blocked out of my mind thanks to my showering experiences. Confused? Intrigued? Aroused? Now are you disgusted? Well, read on my friends. Before I copy and paste on, I should mention that a friend of mine printed this short story out and keeps a copy in her purse at all times to cheer her up in case she gets in a bad mood. I hope to write a story that will replace it some day.

Thursday, February 03, 2005

What does "quixotic" mean?(I hate my shower)
Current mood: quixotic

I wasn't listening to music before I saw the Currently: Playing (Music) but then it occurred to me to start listening to iTunes.

I go to New College. My school is a small liberal arts college which is to say a hippy school. Going here is a constant test of how far I can be pushed. Take my shower for instance. To say the average temperature of the shower is 85 degrees is no exaggeration, but it is a bit misleading. The two temperatures the shower switches between are roughly 30 degrees and lava. Also the shower has no pressure. I'm not very educated on the inner workings of plumbing, but I would conclude from my experiences in my shower that the system currently in place consists of a giant tub of water above my shower head. I turn the knob which removes an obstruction in the pipe so that water can flow weakly through the shower head. I only need to turn the knob far enough to move the obstruction in the pipe. It came to my attention some time ago that the knob doesn't actually control the rate or temperature of the water. Those functions are controlled by God who uses the water as a conduit to inform me of how much he/she hates me on a daily basis. "You masturbated to Asian school girls again Ian. Take that! LET THERE BE THIRD DEGREE BURNS!!!"

The worst part is that the shower actually sets me up for the burn. First it will decrease the pressure so I need to huddle closer to the wall and try to bring as much of my body underneath my decreasing water supply. Then the shower will decrease the temperature slowly until I physically revert to my second trimester choice between boy or girl. So the stage is set: I'm huddled and shivering like fresh meat in prison, soap covering my entire body and in my eyes, I lean up slowly to wash the soap off my face, and I think, just for a second, about how I voted for John Kerry. BAM! Pure fucking steam hits me in the face, burning off 3 layers of flesh.

The morals of this story:
I hate my shower.
Masturbating to Asian school girls is as much of a sin in God's eyes as voting for Kerry.
Steam is really hot.

I'm out.

PS:I originally wrote this as a myspace post, which I think means Tom and Rupert Murdoch own a tiny little piece of my soul. Good luck to whom ever has to deal with this demon shower now. Happy new year NCF, the first since 2003 that I will be with out you.

An original post will be up sometime soon. It is about Final Destination and how whichever version of Death is at work in that universe needs to be fired.

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