Abandon all hope, ye who enter here...

So my room is small and messy. I have known this. But I apparently fulfill many 'emo' stereotypes with my room as well. Here are the fun ones that have been pointed out to me

Nothing in this room has been tampered with, at all. The tool kit is out because I was dismantling some shelves in the garage, and I needed a hex wrench.

Let's begin.

Step one. A guitar. What good is an emo kid without a guitar? How else will he let the world know how tormented he is? This guitar makes sure that everyone is aware that Tara Sexton broke my heart in 9th grade.

I bet the formatting on this is gonna look like ass.

Hey, check out garden state at the bottom. I didn't even notice that.

If you can't read that, it says "What should I do with my life?" No emo has any idea what he is going to do in the next three days, let alone his whole life. Why?

Because everyone knows an emo could die at any moment!! (see razorblades)

Just kidding. by the way that "what should I do with my life" book is total shit.

Most emos are, at their core, incredibly self centered. And what could be more self-centered than an INCREDIBLY EMO SELF PORTRAIT OF YOURSELF hung boldly on the wall of your own room!? Okay even I'm embarassed by this one.

Emos like to pretend they are well read. So laying on the floor, are some very trendy and very emo books. Chuck Pahlaniuk (bet I spelled that wrong) is like the king of all emos. And he's Gay! yee haw! They are of course, unread, because who could find time to read when they could be playing....

YET ANOTHER GUITAR! Cause sometimes one doesn't cut it. Pun intended. And is that a keyboard!? Synth emo!

Just for kicks, here are some wristbands. No explanation needed here.

sweet. oh and the bed is a mess because... uhh... a messy bed is emo.

Finally, the cherry on top:

My blog! yes I am reading my own blog. Because all emos are basically just masturbating mentally at the end of the day.

This is all one big coincidence, because I am undeniably NOT EMO, but I was pretty stoked with how many similarities there were.

So fuck off emo kids! I'm not like you. Except in most ways.

John of the Exceedingly Hispanic Pompadour

At least two shades of drunk. He crossed over like a point guard and sunk it. The captain went down on the ship, but was guided home by the grace of God. Woke up embarassed.

His majesty's brilliant metamorphosis into base sex-fiend.

(...continued from previous post, "The maiden voyage....")



Hello loyal reader.

I must regretfully inform you that I have abandoned this project. There is simply too much information, so I will give you the bullet points, if you were curious.

*John/Ben arrive safely in Chowchilla. Stephanie's dad lives in a castle on a golf course.

*John calls dad; informs him that he drove. Dad is skeptical, suggests that car will break down on way home. John informs Dad that dad is wrong and an idiot.

*Saturday finds the roommates at the 'resort' area of the course- food and swimming pools and etc. abound.

*John is so pent up from abstaining since Thursday, even the most haggard of women are completely attractive to him. Hillarity ensues.

I'll stop the slideshow to include one hillarious conversation with a 4 year old nephew-ish person of Stephanie's. His name is William, goes by Liam. He is from Seattle and wants to be a surfer. He doesn't let his mom cut his hair, but he is only 4 so it's not that long.

Liam: Hello.
John: Hi liam, how is your day going?
Liam: It is good. I rode in an airplane.
John: That's right, you're from Seattle. I remember now.

John: Liam, do you like baseball?
Liam: Yes.
John: Do you like the Mariners?
Liam: Yes.

(Liam fidgets with some sort of cookie and kicks his feet. I do the same thing because I am basically four and I like cookies.)

John: Did you know that the greatest baseball player alive, Ken Griffey Jr, used to play for the Seattle Mariners?
Liam: Yes. Did you know that the best snake alive is the King Cobra?


John: Yes.


We later discussed watermelons, the best animal, the best dinosaur, and the difficulties of surfing in Seattle, WA. But I did think that transition from my hero to a venomous reptile was pretty seamless.

*John, Ben, Stepahnie, Vincent all play way too many drinking games. John goes to bed drunk and angry.

*John and Ben leave before Stephanie and Vince on Sunday.

*John drives like an asshole. Car is acting suspicious. John and Ben press onward.

*Car is really acting suspicious now, we press onward.

*Radio turns off and emergency brake light turns on. What the shit?

*transition...

*John and Ben are broken down in front of Angelina Jolie's house on the corner of Sunset and Foothill in Beverly Hills. We are ignored by paparazzi and security guards, and because it is Sunday, a tow truck and mechanic are completely inaccessible.

*We are rescued by a combination of AAA, the world's surliest tow truck driver, the only gas station in Beverly Hills, Stephanie Fall, and Ben's grand-aunt Kathy, who is perhaps the sweetest lady in the world.

*Dennis warns us that we will likely have to take a train back to San Diego and come back next week for the car.

*John calls home, lies about what happened, says he is back in San Diego already but is not coming to visit them for some unknown reason. John refuses to let dad know he was right about the car breaking down.

*Repairs are eventually made, John and Ben arrive home scott free.



*John makes some irrational phonecalls; eventually busts a nut.





~fin.

the maiden voyage of his most excellent Sir John the Indefatigable.

Thursday:

My phone rings at 11:45 pm. Ben has just gotten back from Los' house, with Stephanie. He wants to know if I am going to Stephanie's graduation party tomorrow.

I hesitate. Dylan is unable to go because of work. The green Ford Ranger has been unreliable at best, though recently has been running strong. My beloved Nissan has never let me down, but it hasn't really been tested and Chowchilla is 377 miles away.

I relay this information to Ben, who assures me we can make it. He needs to know now, because if I'm not going, he'll ride up with Stephanie in the morning. If he waits up for me, there is no way I'm going to bail on him in the afteroon.

More importantly: Stephanie thinks I am going to go. My word is my bond.

So I commit. "Yes. We're going. We'll figure out the car thing later."

My housing issues are evicted from the back of my mind. Car paranoia signs a temporary sub-lease. I eventually get to sleep.

Friday comes, and I am a solid four minutes late to work. The shift begins and ends quickly, and I'm back at home preparing a backpack. I laugh a bit as I look for the bag- I hadn't used it since the first day of the spring semester. I find it and fill it with t-shirts, shorts, and loafers. I stuff an optimistic amount of condoms in the front pocket as well.

I'd been so distracted on Thursday that I'd completely forgotten to "handle it." So to speak. Wax the batmobile, etc. This becomes important later, but for the time being, it manifested itself in me bringing condoms to what is basically a family picnic.

I tell Ben that we should check my tires, and that I would like to drive. I estimated my nine gallon tank yielding us 270 miles before we'd need to refill, and I wanted to test the roadworthiness of this particular 17 year old car.

I call my mom (specifically my mom, and not my dad) and let her know I am driving to Chowchilla. She asks where it is and wishes me luck. She wonders if my car can make it; I assure her it can. Is this enough obvious foreshadowing yet?

We neglect to check the tires and we're off. I notice certain things. The car rattles a good deal after 85 mph, depending on the surface. Drafting other cars does wonders for your gas. We'd gone through half a tank in the first 100 miles. Ben did some quick calculations and realized that we were only projecting 200 gallons on my tank of gas. On the freeway. I guessed that it was an error with the meter and not the engine, and sure enough, we squeezed almost 200 additional miles out of the remaining "half tank."

The goal was to refill in a town called Earlimart, more for sentimental reasons than conveniance. Let it be known that there is no store called "Early Mart," if you're ever explaining your location to an extremely confused group of friends in another car.

Ben and I both took careful precautions to make sure our ipods were charged and ready for the nearly seven hour drive. Playlists were made. Plans were set. It was only after we were out of range for San Diego's radio stations that we realized that neither one of us had brought an adapter to use them in the car.

Nice.

to be continued.