a good point about swords

So I had been swinging my katana around the past few days and studying the "sword" character from Hero, looking for a weakness in Broken Sword's technique, and my roommate asked me what I was doing. I explained my logic that swords were pretty much way more intimidating than guns, because there are a large number of movies where the most badass character kills a bunch of gun-wielders with some sort of blade (Uma from Kill Bill and Miho from Sin City are recent examples), and this has psychologically trained us to fear sharp objects and scoff at loud ones (like sharks versus pomeranians, or iron maidens versus crying babies... the list goes on).

Ah, apparently my roommate gained wisdom as one of his vampiric abilities. He calmly pointed out that in The Last Samurai, the Japanese soldiers easily shot all the sword-wielding samurai, except for Tom Cruise, who must have felt like the one death-cult member who didn't have the nerve to drink the Kool-Aid. How could I have overlooked this stunning damnation of the effectiveness of swords? I realized I have much to learn from the sage-like Tom Cruise -- a man wise enough to teach the emperor of Japan about Japanese history -- so I immediately dropped the sword-play and have started studying something my enemies would truly fear: Scientology.



guns are for losers

Ever since I began living with a vampire roommate, I have become very aware of my own mortality. The fragile shell that houses my soul is like a delicate and beautiful flower. Because of that, I am learning to use a sword in case I ever need to defend myself. It is better to be prepared, right? And the way I figure, so many people have watched a Rambo or Dirty Harry marathon on TNT, nobody is afraid of guns any more. People see 50 Cent mumbling like he's Muhammad Ali, and they say, "Didn't that guy get shot a bunch of times? Isn't he now rich and famous now? Does that mean I need to be shot to get ahead?"

So the sword thing. I think people still get freaked out when someone spazzes out with a katana in their hand. If a dude is swinging a switchblade, people are falling all over themselves to be the first to shout in an Australian accent, "You call that a KNOIFE?!" But when a guy is holding a full-blown sword, damn you better step back, because he's either crazy or a ninja. Plus, bullets can't kill everything. For example, I would be able to take on the Highlander, should he ever mistake me for an immortal. More importantly, I could drive it through the heart of an enraged vampire who didn't pay his goddamn rent on time... again.



i am a genius

I have invented a new tasty food: the Donut McMuffin. It is basically bacon and egg on a donut, which I invented because I thought we had bagels, but when I was finished cooking my eggs and bacon, I realized all I had was a glazed donut. Still, it was pretty good, kind of like when you pour syrup on your pancakes, but it gets all over your sausages and hash browns, and you eat it anyway, because it really does taste awesome. That is how I would summerize my Donut McMuffin -- like a breakfast that accidently got covered in donut-flavored syrup.



mitch hedberg is funny

"Last time I called shotgun, we had rented a limo, so I fucked up."



white ninja gives a gift



good lord, i hate vampires

Living with a vampire roommate, I have learned many valuable lessons about my character. For example, I hate vampires. If I were on a date with a girl, and it was going really well -- like in the movies where crappy string music is cued in the background, and the murmur of other voices in the restaurant is hushed so you can hear the absurdly witty dialogue between the protagonists -- if a date were going that well, and then the girl admitted she was a vampire, I would probably play it cool, but then party with her all night, timing the end of our romp so that just as she is walking home, the sun rises, burning her to a crisp. That is how much I hate vampires.

It all started when Drake showed up at my house, conveniently looking for a place to rent just as I was on the search for a new roommate. Drake, by the way, was the homeless guy who put change in everybody's expired parking meters when I was down in LA. I obviously didn't recognize him at the time, because he was newly shaved and cleaned up. Turns out the bastard had been bitten by a vampire and had made enough money to get off the streets by killing folks in the dead of night and then stealing their money.

Anyway, he dropped that all on me later. At first, I thought he was just really weird. I only saw him coming and going at night, he refused to eat my homemade pesto, and when I invited him to visit Gilroy with my friends, he adamantly refused. I wasn't going to be one to judge, however, because I was reading Thus Spoke Zarathustra, and Nietzsche always scares me into being accomodating to others, for fear that they turn out like Nietzsche. However, it started getting weird when he declined my invitation to eat at the Olive Garden, and then repeatedly slammed the "greasy Italians" for using too much garlic in their cooking.

I also have a Catholic (read: super-bloody) Jesus-on-the-cross sticker positioned for maximum ironic hilarity on my mini-fridge in my room. It is ironic because a refrigerator was the one thing that could have saved Jesus from the cross. Thus was the power of the refrigerator in biblical times that it could erase the pain of God. Anyway, I came home one day to find the eyes of Jesus scratched out! There was also a bowl of thick red liquid inside, but I was mostly just mad about the Jesus sticker. I confronted Drake about it, and he kind of mumbled, which I knew was how he tried to lie. One time he must have cut himself shaving, because there was blood all over the mirror in the bathroom, but when I asked him about it, he just mumbled, then ran into his room and tried to hide under the mattress.

So I was pissed about that, but then things came to a head when I cut my finger while chopping carrots for dinner. Drake came over and was unusually attentive to my finger, explaining that I needed to squeeze out as much of the blood as I could to "speed the healing process." I'm no pre-med, but this sounded like bunk to me, but then he started yelling "Feed Me!" and bit my finger, which gave me a sudden image of Rick Moranis for some reason. I pushed him to the ground and demanded a non-mumbly explanation. He broke down, and told me the whole story, including how he followed me back from LA because I drove away before he could put change in the parking meter for my car.

Thoroughly creeped out, I have let him stay, mostly because I don't know what to do with a vampire. Drake isn't like the leprechaun from earlier -- for example, he isn't trapped in a glass jar -- so for now I am just biding my time, and hoping that Drake is doing the same.