Obvious Origins of A Blond and the Not-So-Obvious Origins of a Band Kid

How I became a blond

My mom gave me a recessive gene. My dad gave me a recessive gene. End of story.

Not too exciting, eh? So here's a slightly more interesting saga:

Origins of a Band Kid

It all started before 5th grade.

"Wanna play trumpet, kid? It's loud, it's shiny and it's only got three buttons."

"Sure. Why not?"

Fast forward eight years.

Still playin' that horn--now louder, and less shiny, but still three-buttoned--and one year left to go.

What happened in-between?

It's been a never-ending battle that always ends with me getting bitched at by an alcoholic leprechaun with a combover.

But I guess some good has come of it. I am now much more accustomed to:

1) heat (the weather and verbal kinds)

2) really strange people

3) an interminable sense of dread in my gut

Maybe I should've quit. But then who knows, I might be getting yelled at by Coach Arlee Connors on the sidelines of a football field. And, as scary as that little band man can be, I think I'll take him over the huge, gold-toothed beast of a coach.

At least Meador doesn't give dead cockroaches.

As for now, I'm just glad I get to miss the first week of band camp--although that will surely instigate more midget tirades--and hoping that, like everyone says, my senior year flies by (at least band-wise). Then I can join the lesbian hag as a band alumni and retire that godforsaken piece of twisted metal pipe that has caused me so much stress, affliction and wasted free time.

Sea-Threw

Things you should briefly know about this particular writer:

• I am in fact not a registered English major, but an Education major.
• I'm an Ares. Why is this important Daniel?
• I'm always exhausted; therefore, I'm always a bit deranged.
• I like music I can freak out to.
• La Vita e Bella, Go Big or Go Home, Never Give Up Never Surrender
• I enjoy making movie references. I especially enjoy when people get them.
• Patterns in real life make me smile. "She's on her third husband, Wallace Lumbley the Third, a particular pattern she doesn't lecture us on in class."

-Samm

Adrift in a Sea of Confusion

Samm and Joel certainly aren't going to be English Majors (sarcasm? yes)

I'll save my origin tale (kind of like of Oregon Trail, but slightly, only slightly, different) for later.

At the moment, I'd like to ramble.

Commercials irritate me, no matter how well they are written.
I think it's funny that they only translate obvious things into Spanish (Cuidado!).
I find it weird to contemplate death, especially in life threatening situations (like when striding across a recently mopped floor).
If there are safe houses, does that imply that we are living in danger homes?
Dan:
Finds it creepy that you are always within 6 feet of a spider.
Hopes you find that as alarming as I do (Arachnophobes unite!)
Needs to think less and do more (no matter what people tell me).
loves iPhones.
is searching for a flash of inspiration, until then I will continue rambling.
EUREKA!
I've got nothing.
Except...
Nope, still nothing.
Hmmmm...

I miss the 90s...

Anyway, I miss the lesbian. I've only seen her once this summer. I've seen the gays plenty, especially next week for JCamp. I can't wait for the No Doubt/Paramore Concert.

Hmmm... Maybe I should have written creatively. Oh well, next time :)

Hopefully you've been reading my blog ;)

SHAMELESS PLUG OF THE WEEK: read above sentence, again.


Funny things from France:
God is a brand of sextoys
Condom Machines are located at every bus stop
A kid walked up with a backpack and unpacked a 5ft bong; he proceeded to use it
They take suck it to the next level, they constantly make fist-fucking references
Large penises are a frequent subject of conversation


Well, hopefully that titillated your...

Until Next Time,
Kissinger's Lovechild

The Not-So-Secret Origins of Not Being a Guy

It began in a test-tube.

The doctor bent low to examine the subject, his pale skin and dark hair reflecting in the opaque glass of the tube in a grotesque fashion. He sucked his lips under his teeth as he grasped the top of the tube. A flash of victory crossed his pinched features as he turned towards the couple before him, the vial held triumphantly in his fingers.

"A girl, as promised," he told them, an expectant look greeting their smiles.

The male reached into the back pocket of his white painter's shorts, unveiling a large amount of cash neatly folded in half. He rapidly peeled away thirty crisp hundred dollar bills. As he slid the remaining money back into his pocket he held out the three-thousand for the doctor.

Salivating, the doctor reached too quickly, the test-tube girl slipping from his fingers and plummeting to the white sterilized floor. The doctor cringed at the hardened looks the couple was offering, his mouth growing dry as the man retracted his money.

"Not to worry," the doctor began quickly, "all those still in the tubes are girls."

The woman smiled and nudged her husband to hand the money once again, a question dancing in her eyes.

The doctor smirked thinly as he scooped up the remaining cells on the floor into a sterilized bottle for cough syrup. "Only the broken ones become boys," he explained.

-Samm

Brandon Foster: Unabashedly Perfect (jk, jk)

Ah, here is what you have truly been waiting for: the first post by Brandon Foster. Well as the saying goes, the best has been saved for last.

Surely, you would like to get acquainted with me, so I shall comply. I am clearly the greatest (and least queer) member of this shabby bunch. I, after all, did coin the term, "Muskequeer," and yes, I am the artist behind that beautiful work of art at the top of your page. What else must you know about me? I am simply perfect.

So thank you for gracing this blog with your Brandon-adoring presence. And please try to muddle through the other members' posts as you wait patiently for mine. They are trying, after all (if not succeeding).

Adieu,

The Glorious Brandon Foster

P.S. Thank you for allowing me to cleanse my system of its pretentiousness. I considered leaving my intro as it was, but I would hate to mislead our readers--excuse me, reader (What's up, Enrique?)--so here is the slightly more realistic version:

I'm actually very shy and self-deprecating, my humor consists of making snide comments that few hear and fewer laugh at, and I have no idea what we will be blogging about.

Hey Kids!

Hello there, marvelous reader.

This is Samm Ravens, the female in this perverse equation of homosexuality. But I would be the Lesbian Hag, yes. Welcome to the blog, reader. Stomach what we have to offer if you can.

-Samm

Welcome Deer Readers (oh and you non-deer folk)

Hello, my name is Kissinger's Lovechild, and I would formally like to welcome you to our collective blog.
We appreciate your profound interest in the blog.
We promise a keg of hilarity and a pitcher of wisdom with every visit!
So, bask in the glow of the three muskequeers and the lesbian hag.

Enjoy,
KL