I guess we're doing this whole honesty and integrity thing for our S*T*C posts. I'm prepared.
I have a really really hairy penis which makes it look much shorter than it actually is.
I say things like "ownage" and "lolz" and I'm currently working on a method of pronouncing "pwnage" so I can have 100% pwnage over bitches in Halo 2 and WoW.
I masturbate to Facebook pictures.
I pick my nose, and instead of eating the boogers, I store them in the indentations of my molars so as to prolong the salty enjoyment. I just prefer having slimy salty substances in my mouth.
I masturbate to Furry Hentai.
I only really find Asian girls attractive. What can I say, I've got the yellow fever!
I visit Wookieepedia more often than its counterpart. Even for school.
I drink and drive. Drink SODA that is!!! Ahhhahahaha, Pwned! Really, I'd never touch alcohol
I am a virgin with remorseful feelings towards my ex-girlfriends for not getting naked on my throbbing hairy tallywacker. No images for that. Just bitter regret.
There, that's my post. Now all three members of Supple Towel Cuddle have contributed.
Right?
Supple:
God doesn’t like me much, and I totally understand why. I realize it once a week when I go to church and we have “silent confession” time and all I think about is how I haven’t even thought about God since the week before, and really don’t intend to until the next week. He doesn’t like me because every week when I pray in church, some little fucking gremlin inside of me laughs at how much sinning I intend to do this upcoming week, and how I plan to ask forgiveness again the next week at church as I listen to my little gremlin giggle and plan another 7 days of fuckup-age.
And the reason I keep listening to that little gremlin is that my deepest, most natural intuition agrees with him.
It’s not that I’m a soldier for the dark side, or anything. If you were to see me in the videogame “Fable,” you wouldn’t be sure if your computer was highlighting me to attack me or not, because who the fuck knows if I’m good or not?
Well, maybe I do like listening to those things that gremlin whispers to me. But I’m not evil as we see it. I don’t take joy in babies getting run over, I’ve never raped a chick, I don’t have an evil cackle, and I don’t ask people to play “burnout” with me. But it’ll be a while until God smiles at me. Because I plan on continuing this sin-binge I’ve been on for a good 70 more years.
So why don’t I just go atheist? For one, because I still believe in God, but mostly because I totally like Christianity. Maybe there are some controversially evil things the Bible mentions that I, just like you, like to ignore, (racial and gender shit) but all in all, most of the people in it were groovy guys. Jesus rocked, you know? He said some peaceful things that we often like to discuss when we’re full of potsmoke and Doritos. He came to this world and laid down some ideas that I think we all agree with intrinsically – being groovy to one another, and whatnot.
Notice I never said Jesus doesn’t like me. But then again, there’s God. Jesus came to earth like the groovy younger brother, with a flower in his hair, a baby on his lap, and a smile on his face. God, on the other hand, doesn’t fucking like me. I can’t remember the 10 Commandments exactly because I was distracted by being 9 years old when I learned them, but I get the general idea of it. A good portion of it is “Jesus-esque,” the stuff that sounds like it came out of a Bill and Ted movie and everybody can agree about as they spoon lovingly. (I’ll bet Jesus loved to spoon) But then again, there’s everything else. Stuff that has to do with constant praise of God, of giving yourself to him and of living your life through him. WTF, God? This is what doesn’t make sense to me.
Put yourself in God’s shoes. (er…sandals.) From what I hear from the church, our primary goal in life is to be as God-centered as we can – sending missionaries all over the world to make them like us. God requests us to give him constant praise and adoration, and that is my downfall. Why do you want that, God? Why?
It’s like if I went out and splurged all my money on the most high-tech, state of the art ant-farm that money can buy. Why would I do this? Not so all the ants can sit sideways in their really thin almost 2 dimensional world looking up at me and giving me their thanks and praise for buying them. I’m not that insecure about myself. The reason I went out and bought that ant farm is so I could watch the ants do their ant shit – enjoying waking up every day and being an ant. I wouldn’t especially want them to do anything specific, just whatever ants do. I brought you into this world, now go. Yes, yes, you’re welcome for buying you, now just go forth and be ants, and be groovy to one another. Enjoy being in this life I gave you as much as you can.
Because, what’s gained by a Nun being so devoted to God that she has to be a fucking Nun for the rest of her life? Really, I support the fact that she’s getting out there and converting people to a religion which I generally agree with, but she’s not enjoying the ride God gave her. She’s not allowed to love, to rock, to listen to gangster rap and really want to get naked for some guy.
So why is pot a sin? Why is wanting to get nakedly naked with a girl and make all kinds of bad decisions a sin? Why is showing some midriff a sin? Yeah, maybe it degrades womankind, but it made that lonely little 8th grade girl a little happier with herself, and I’m not about to tell her she can’t do that. I’m completely fine with it, if it’s what makes her happy. I’m fine with everything, really, if it makes you happy. I’m down with bisexuals, trisexuals, homo-sapiens, carcinogens, hallucinogens, men, and Pee Wee Herman.
But me being down with you liking these things is wrong. A sin. Maybe I enjoy these things, but from what I hear, they’re sent by the devil to tempt me. I’m convinced they’re good, but Pastor Tyler tells me they’re BAAAD and I shouldn’t like them. But you know what? They make me happy, and isn’t that what Christianity is all about? As I see it, the devil got screwed. I took all of his tools of evil and badness and I enjoyed them, with no evil side effects.
And so what if I desperately want to have sex before marriage? I’ll bet if I ever do, that girl will want to too. And if it makes us both happy, it’s a well thought out decision, and no harm will come of it, why not? Because we’ll regret it (even though we don’t think we will) when we’ve finally settled down into marriage? That’ll be something I confront then. For now, it’s what makes me happy in life, and what reason is there to live than to be happy? (After re-reading this post, that sentence was one hell of a stoner thing to say.)
So I’ll go on as it is. For now. Eventually when I see my eventual death coming, I’ll sack up and start being really religious. So will you, probably. They say that even people who convert in their last seconds are accepted into heaven, so what makes me want to be good now? Fuck it, I’ll convert later. For now, I’m going to live it up. Yeah, I know this isn’t going to trick God. I know I’m shafting him by planning on converting late in my life, and so does he. But that’s something for he and I to discuss once I’m dead. For now, I plan on enjoying this antfarm God bought for me. Hopefully you do too.
(Sorry if this post wasn’t very funny. Quite frankly, I get sick of funny. Funny isn’t that great. You know what I’m realizing is great? True sincerity. Grooviness. And Rock.)
I have a tit-load of catch up work to do for Architecture over the next couple weeks of break. And why, nay, HOW, might you ask? Well sit down and listen to the story my scholarship wasted $32,800 for me to be able to tell.
My roommate in Eliot House, Alex, called me the best roommate ever in a brief introductory conversation following the inter-dormitory-song-singing-assembly.
"Dude, ju'got a lighter?"
I had two at the time. I handed one to him. The black one with the red pepper is special to me, so even though I got it out of my pocket first, I repocketed it and handed him the shittier, purpler one.
"Awhuh-huh-huh...(his laugh, put to text)..huh-huh, awesome! I have the best roommate ever!"
Yes, I know.
"Awhuh (his chuckle, put to text) a little cocky, huh?"
As it turned out, no. I'm not a little cocky. I'm fucking normal and this kid does not belong in my life. Out loud, I just said "well."
"You smoke?"
Not cigarettes, nope.
"So what about..." and at this point he did the universal hand-sign for pot smoking. You can picture it. Skinny Asian with long hair. Plus this.
Yeah, smoked that quite a bit at the end of high school. But I stopped cause I got caught back in June. I didn't want to do it too much in college, either.
"Caught by like, parents, or, like..."
A little of both. Cops mipped me first, then I tried to keep it to myself but my dad intercepted a letter from the county prosecutor.
"Aw man, where'd the cops find you?"
At my high school. Well in the parking lot anyway. And it was night time.
"Fuck yeah, man! I actually got expelled for the same kind of shit..."
Expelled? Like out of the school expelled?
"Yeah, but it was IN my school."
And thus began a long, stupid retelling of his life till Washington University.
Expelled for smoking pot in the boy's bathroom, moved to Chicago with his sister, got really into coke, went to rehab, some more Chicago, and then first day of college--here, talking to me. The main reasons he managed to be "here" include Adderall, Asian-ness, and his incredibly patiently forgivingly affluent mom.
When college started, right away my Uncle Steve sent me a birthday card. He sends these every year. They're just some clip-art put on a piece of glossy paper with a message and some money, usually. And this particular one was just like that, only with one of those crisp benjamins that must have been peeled hot off the press and put directly in the mail to me. I fucking hid it in my medicine box, with a giddiness about having to hide money since, up till then that had always been far from necessary for me.
Through Alex's being Asian, we came to know Yoon. Yoon is a bilingual, lazy-but-good-at-math, repeat-the-punch-line-kind-of-German-vaporizer-owning South Korean. He quickly became one of my closest acquaintances. And tall skinny blond Glen was always around, too, but he never said much so he doesn't get much of a description. I think he'd like it that way.
Through Yoon's being a vaporizer owner, we came to know pot. Pot in whole knew ways. We got high in September and stayed high until about mid-November. Mostly we sat in Yoon's room and watched episodes of South Park, Robot Chicken, or just random YouTube shit. Sometimes we'd go eat, or go get food and bring it back and eat, or go to our own rooms and sleep, or go to classes if the mood struck us. My grades dropped like flies, so I got higher to compensate. Eventually a lot of the problems solved themselves. I failed every fucking class except Architecture, and that one only because in it our grades are cumulative. That's why you don't leave the problem solving up to the problems; as it turns out, problems are very incompetent decision makers.
My mom and I wrote back and forth, and there were phone calls, too. I kept her very up to date on my grades--really, I did, even with the failures. That way I didn't have to dread updating her all at once over Thanksgiving or something. But that didn't stop her from being terribly upset. She also was a little concerned that I hadn't written my Uncle Steve a thank you for the $100 birthday card. FUCK! I just forgot, is all! I really did like the gift and even had the bill stored away for safe keeping. I refused to spend it on pot, even if I had no money to my name otherwise and we were desperate for some.
The longer I put off the thank you, the less likely it was to ever happen. (Still, now, I haven't said thanks for it and Uncle Steve even stayed at our house over Christmas weekend.)
I adapted to my environment, chameleon commando style. I started sleeping when my friends slept (daytime). I started eating what my friends ate (anything and everything). I started working when my friends worked (scarcely but in fierce, frustrated bursts). Only, as it turns out, I am just not cut out for that lifestyle. My skin stopped clearing up, my drawing started getting wiggity weird, I was struggling desperately for motivation and not coming up with much, and at one low point I even bought a tiny sunny poster of an infantile wood nymph petting a fawn. I was very high and very much alone in that kind of never-by-yourself way. Don't even get me started on the girl situation.
But don't think I got depressed. No, my body seems to hit a maximum stress level and plateau from there; it's pretty unhealthy, from the psychological perspective. I had no excuse to be depressed. Everything was a result of my own lazy shit-ness. It's not like I was battling fate. And man was I high.
Then I got a care package from my Aunt with awesome cookies, microwave popcorn, yellow and orange Starburst (I only like the pink ones but munchies are colorblind), and some bible verses on note cards. You'd think the verses would just be inedible obstacles to my hungry collegiate tummy, and you'd be close to right in most cases. I'm not a Christian guy in the faith sense. But jesus christ, the Bible is fucking sweet in some places.
Realizing that my family actually believed I could pull off the Wash U Architecture Challenge, I made an less-than-instantaneous resolution to do so. (I wrote some of my more down-beat music during this period... you'll hear it sometime.) Meanwhile my roommate was doing coke again, seemingly regardless of the ten thousand fucking TEN THOUSAND dollar rehabilitation his parents put him through. He didn't tell me about it. But when Yoon started getting into blow, too, he got really talkative, and since there's only so much to say about South Park, we eventually go to the topic of Alex's revitalized addiction. This didn't make me dislike Alex. It just brought a lot of shitty truths to light. Those made me dislike Alex.
I realized Alex is willing to lie to me, blatant flat-out lie. And to his mom. And to his sister. And, fuck, to himself. I'm not getting melodramatic with that, this kid was actually just that dumb. And to think of all the times he told me he couldn't go out cause he didn't have the money, or even worse, the fucking times I covered him because I'd force him to go out.
I also realized the guys were willing to keep important secrets from me even at my expense. If coke is the only thing that makes these guys honest, then fuck. Fuck.
Fuck.
I got out, though. If you're wondering, it's okay. I've still never touched cocaine. But I watched a lot of people touch it. Listen to the hype. People do get hooked fucking instantly. And in every case except Glen, they all start off in (and typically stay in) denial. Glen probably would have denied it, too, if he spoke.
So it wasn't just the drug isolation. I mean the me-not-snorting-coke isolation. Even though that must have been a pretty big factor for Alex, who was really insecure about my knowing. It was full-on fuck-all exclusion. The guys started the habit of playing video games, watching South Park, smoking pot, having visitors--even female ones, all without me. I mostly didn't mind, because I was getting back into school, but even when the friends are not that friendly to begin with, not feeling necessary can wear on you.
At home, Westside homecoming happened, the football team lost a perfect season, and only guys would write back on Facebook. Girls evidently see long-distance post-graduation contact as a sign of weakness. In my actual life, some of the boys were just starting to get into the big H.
That's not Hamby, or Hey Arnold!, or heroin. Or no wait yeah it's heroin. It's heroin, sorry. Yoon even overdosed on it, but didn't go to the hospital or anything because he was alone and incapacitated and probably didn't much want to deal with responsibility anyway. Yoon was having a pretty wild couple of months if you consider he started the semester off pretty purely at square one with just a shit ton of money and an interest in German vaporizers. Glen was trying H too, but in a very silent, boring way.
I was working hard in school. Really really hard. I had to keep from failing my one remaining class, Architecture. I drew and painted my ass off. Six hours here, four there, ten there... a lot of sleep in between. And before I knew it I was off pot. Cool. But still struggling with school. My adviser got me into contact with another adviser who teamed up with her, my two Architecture studio teachers, and me. Like a megazord, we attempted to conquer my poor ass excuse for a semester. I became that troubled kid you prod at jokingly even when he tries hard at something, hell, especially when he tries hard at something. I shake off the frequent criticism, though, cause it reminds me so much of the exact same shit I used to pull on Ryan Cook. It's not like I forgive myself for how I treated him sometimes, but instead it's something like the opposite of forgiveness and it seems to meet the same end.
I moved out of my room into a new double a block or so away, per my adviser's request plus my own initiative. The new room mate's solid stuff, likes good movies, sleeps at healthy times, and doesn't treat his mom like shit over the phone even if all she's doing is calling to tell him she wired him some money or maybe to tell him doctors found a spot on his dad's lung but don't worry it's benign.
Before I left, Alex asked me to shoulder the bill. He spent $400 between Thanksgiving and then on drugs alone (cigarettes included), and those dollars didn't all go through his lungs. He asked Yoon and I to split half the bill. The bill which includes cigarettes and coke as well as pot, which I quit smoking. I never gave him the money. Sort of.
When I got to my new room, all settled in, my new room mate left for home right away. It was December 21st, holidays. So when I woke up in the middle of the night and I was cussing in anticipatory disappointment and I very literally jumped out of bed and turned on my desk lamp and rummaged through my desk drawers for the medicine box and found it only had fucking medicine in it, there was no one to vent my disgusted rage at. I never gave Alex the money. He fucking took it.
Alex's mom is cool. She's got a southern bell accent mixed with a very Chinese kind of deliberately authoritative air. If you've eaten at Happy Family you know what I mean. But on Christmas Eve Eve, she called me to ask what her son had done to offend me. I mean why else would I move? Surely not for academic purposes. But anyway I understood her concern, because evidently someone (coked out Yoon) had told her (cause she must have asked around) everything I said about Alex behind his back. I'm not gonna tell you all of what that includes, cause I didn't mean a lot of it I was just fucking GHHHhhhhh. You know. And she even started crying at one point because it evidently put a huge damper on Alex's holiday season. I told her I'd talk to Alex. I know he wants to set shit straight, not just between him and me and but for his own second semester.
Yoon and Glen and all those people I moved away from... I did like them. I do, now, too. So I'm going to help them out. Alex, too.
I'm writing my Uncle Steve that thank-you, and now I've got to explain that I never really got a chance to relish in his gracious gift since it got stolen from me for drugs. That way, when I actually address it to my roommate's mom, she'll understand she didn't get it by accident.
That way she'll understand the damper on Alex's Christmas.
That way Alex will actually be honest with his mom and have a valid reason to have such a potty-mouthed telephone conversation with her.
And knowing her knack for figuring things out regarding her son's wellbeing (with or without coked out Yoon in this particular instance) she'll have a profound impact on the amount of nasty ass motherfucking narcotics entering Eliot House.
And now, for the rest of this winter break, I have a tit load of catch-up work to do for Architecture.
We only breathed through our noses when we wrote this post.
Supple: Welcome to Wandyteeth. We're D.R.U.N.K.
Towel: When I fart, it makes plunking sounds like a muted guitar being smacked.
Supple: That's right, ladies and gentlebugs. Cuddle is only with us in spirit this evening as, sadly, he and his cousins are having sex. Our acronym, D.R.U.N.K., stands for...
Towel: Diligent Reptiles under no knebriation. Yeah, so the acronym is a little forced, but you can't judge. At least we're changing the world.
Speaking of changing the world, remember when your parents would splurge on a really fancy meal to make, like an excellently premium steak, and they would feel so proud to provide such quality food to their children, but you never really thought the fancy dinners were any nicer than the normal ones? Maybe not admittedly, but something deep down sensed it, didn't it?
Supple: That's right, your spleen, (voice acted by Don Knotts) and your penis (voice acted by Ed Harris) sensed it--cheap food and expensive food and chinese food and guinea pig food, all of it is just that, FOOD. It only helps your stupid stomach (voice acted by Michael Meyers).
Towel: Dear Supple,
Do you remember when you were really young and experimental with your body?
Supple: Oh yeah, well I wanted so badly to be super saiyan. I was truly willing to train in 100x gravity. So I built a magnetic hyperbolic time force chamber and sped toward Namek and hit a countermagnetic minefield that toggled the 10x gravity chamber training into being 100x. Crazy shit.
Towel: Dude I know. I chaffed for like a week after that. Also, do your youngest grade school year teachers ever appear in your fantasies? This is turning into an interview. Imagine it's an interview with the FBI to see if they should dispose of you or not. What is your answer? You must answer using only 3 letters.
Supple: You.
You show up in my fantasies. Towel. I dream of you, shaking your hair and then pushing up your glasses. And if you aren't wearing glasses, you shake your hair and push your finger on your nose but nothing happens and then you laugh awkwardly and go "whoops, not wearing my glasses." All of this. Only you. Towel.
Towel: After the tests of time, I've decided that my skin complexion fits best well with a serving of strawberry jam and fine whipped (whip-p-ed - 3 syllables) cream. And now, Supple, I cannot hide my desperation for you. Like a Falcon, you look. I wish you to soar into my eyrie and ravish my husband, and when he is gone, to fertilize my eggs and to help me hunt for grubb to vomit into their thirsting mouths.
Supple: We will now move onto the portion of the show where we tell a children's bedtime story. This one begins with a young boy, Gideon (voice acted by Cary Elwes).
Gideon: Doctor, when I kiss girls, I get all slobbery. Their mouths are usually filled with it. Please, what can I do to stop my misery?
Doctor: Poor Gideon, I'm only a poor miserable medieval doctor. We never learned anything more than healing wizard inflicted spell wounds.
Gideon: Not genie ones... so I'm stuck in the future!! Will I ever see Pangea again?
Genie (voice acted by Robin Williams): DOCTOR. What are you telling this boy?!
Sith Lord: Has anybody seen the futile Republic resistance?
Entire cast of Aladdin: No.
Diligent Reptiles Under No Knebriation: Listen to me, not that bitch Sith Lord and her terrible, terrible MASK. Gideon, we have all our lives been consumed by this one question: did you, or did you not, SEE HER MASK?
Gideon: It depends, could a boy by the name of, say, GIDEON, thrust into the past?
(faint, swirling vision of the past)
Big Right Toenail: Hey, Towel! We haven't been properly maintenanced in quite a while!
Story Author: Oh, goodness me. Not my opinionated toenail again.
Big Right Toenail: (Miscellaneous Pirate sounds!)
Story Author: Was that miscellaneous pirate sounds?
Big Right Toenail: (Agreeing Miscellaneous Pirate sounds!)
Story Author: Right, then.
Everybody again: This post is dedicated to Joel, who secretly didn't want us to post about drugs any more. We thirst for lobster, thus, we must go.
Love,
The drunkest STC team ever assembled.
---THE DAY AFTER---
Whoops. Our titles seem to be switched around. Maybe even switched around twice. Regardless, I brushed my teeth really hard this morning to dispose of last night's filth. You know that feeling.
