Notes on Travel #4: Bumblefuck, Northwest

This week I took a trip out into the middle of Eastern Washington to visit The Sister in her collegiate setting. Like me, she chose to go to school right plum fucking in the middle of nowhere, except she made the unfortunate decision to go to one in the middle of the desert. So in addition to schoolwork and social pressures, she has to face the possibilities of attacks from coyotes, rattlesnakes, and mountain lions. All I had to deal with was the remote possibility of a wandering J.D. Salinger.

And now, the random observations from the trip.

1. Your personalized vanity plate may reveal more than you would like I don't make a habit of paying attention to license plates, but somehow I noticed the vehicle with the "2IN LUV" plates. My initial reaction was "Hey man, if you're comfortable with revealing the length of your love like that, all the more power to you." Then I realized that this was probably not the intention.

2. I want an electric harmonica I don't know how this would work, or what the point of it would be. But it just sounds cool. Joe: Make it happen.



3. Wesley Snipes is a goddamn liar (and not just with his taxes) On the way back, we had some time to kill, so we hit The Wild Horse Casino out in Pendleton. Let me tell you, there is nothing more existentially depressing than the scene you'll find at the podunk casino on a Wednesday afternoon. The extent of my gambling was a turn at the roulette wheel, betting 20 dollars on black (mind you, I could have made my bet based on 25 cent increments). This went just as well as the time I tried to buy shrooms from that crackhead.


4. Trucker Gas Stations are amazing Not only could I stock up on beef jerky and Super Caffeine Happy Fun Time Wish Drink, but they have your weapons needs covered. Some of you might opt for the flash and thrill of a 3 foot samurai sword, but I was much more intrigued by the opportunity to purchase a switchblade. I know where I'm shopping for Christmas next year!

5. Who Shiv's A Git! Actual phrase found on a bumper sticker at Trucker Gas Station. Now I'm fluent in Southern, Hobo, and Retard, and never had I encountered words randomly put together like this (though my Jive is a bit rusty). Ignoring the Grammatical Genocide committed here (What the hell is the "shiv" possessing? Why is this implied question marked with an exclamation point?), I just have no clue what the hell is being asked here, or if it's even a rhetorical question. My response?



I don't know?

So You Find Yourself Visiting L.A. (Part II)

More Tales From Broseph U

One would think that there would be a lot to talk about when you're in LA. And that certainly is true. But you're going to get more USC stories. Because that's how I roll, bitch.


1. My mere presence confuses and frightens the female of the species: Of course, this fact is not something that was previously unknown to me. All my life, I have had to deal with this condition (though, strangely enough, small children love me). But the reactions usually aren't as egregious as one instance that occurred a couple of days ago, where one lady decided that since Joe and I were heading in one direction at the crosswalk, that SHIT I HAVE TO GO THE OTHER WAY OR THOSE DUDES WILL RAPE ME. At least I got rid of my beard, which has decreased the thoughts in women 43% that I would rape them. So I have that going for me.


2. The panhandlers are unusually aggressive around here: Joe apparently hasn't learned the art of ignoring the panhandler, and has instead attempted dialogue with them once they inquire about the availability of change on his person. When Joe informs the decrepit vagrant that he is unable to provide the necessary monetary compensation that would be used to exchange for a hot dog, said vagrant turns combative and abusive. And then chase after the two of us. Joe needs to enroll in Hobo Manners 101 next term.

3. I was apparently misinformed about the intellectual capacity of the average USC student: Before, I had felt that though the population of USC was made up entirely of Brosephs and their potential (willing) date-rape victims, but I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt when it came to their academic capacities. After all, I came from a school where The Popped Collar was not just a fashion choice, but a Way Of Life. But that changed once I saw the Trojan student in action--on Trojan Vision.



It's one thing for students to prove themselves retarded when they do a stupid game show. That's understandable. But when you have a show that is supposed to analyze current events, and it is staffed by mouth-breathers, you've got a problem. And that was the case for "Platforums" (brilliantly retarded title by the way), which presented a totally incompetent take on the controversy behind the Armenian Genocide, run by a moderator who had clearly not read the cue cards ahead of time. You had the token representative from the Turkish Student Group, who would parrot talking points lifted from any hyper-nationalistic source. It wouldn't be so bad if it seemed she had a grasp of the issues instead of merely memorizing specific phrases. To be fair, the Armenian student representative did not fare much better. Then you had Broseph With Tie who was content to ask such pointed observations as "What?" and "Dude, that was a long time ago". However, all spite should be held for the fourth member of the panel, which all too willingly took the position of Ignorant Jerkass American. She was clearly concerned that all this talk of genocide from eighty years ago was taking time away from her figuring out how to bed that second-string linebacker.



In other words, it was a proud moment for this degree-granting institution. What proceeded was a 15 minute trainwreck of a discussion, in which all the principals proved that they had little-to-no understanding of the subject, beyond a cursory look at a few CNN.com headlines. Fuck, they could have just taken a minute to read this retarded site right here and they would have been better informed.

And now if you excuse me, I have more hobos to avoid.

Watching Altered States In An Altered State

But have you watched the stars...on weed?

As has been mentioned numerous times in this space, I am unemployed, and as such, I currently have a lot of time on my hands. In between time spent "not doing anything" and "doing nothing", I've been watching movies a lot lately. And doing a lot of drinking. Often at the same time.

See, my grand plan was to split my time in a variety of noble pursuits. Afternoons were for catching up on my reading and nights were to be reserved for films, with writing filling up the spaces between. Well, I've done no reading, and you've seen my writing (eww), but hey, I've seen about 10 movies this week! Give me a goddamn gold star!



As for my alcoholic consumption, I stand by all this drinking if it helps me through these days, and hell, it helps with a lot of movies. And it makes watching "Next" reruns on MTV a helluva lot more enjoyable as well. Seriously, my gaydar ratchets into overdrive watching that show when I'm buzzed, and perfecting my theory that 3 out of every 5 guys on that show clearly buzzes with the fruit flies, and that when they do the gay-themed show, at least 1-2 are clearly just putting on appearances to piss off the family.

Drinking and film came together in a magical way on Sunday night, where Zhuang and I pre-gamed for No Pants Day by doing shots while watching Altered States. Of course, it would have been best to trip balls to this with some psychedelics, but that crackhead in San Francisco stiffed us on the shrooms. So, we made do with Jaeger, Crown Royal, tequila, and lots of beer. A good time was had by all, and we learned many things, like that William Hurt will forever be badass (unlike Joe Reefer). Hell, I might even catch that awful Dane Cook/Kevin Costner suckfest on cable just to see William Hurt go insane as the evil conscience. But there are two things that I'd like to discuss in further detail, beyond the awesomeness of The Hurt, as they were revealed after downing 2/3 of a fifth of tequilla.

1. Fiscal anthropology would be crazy.
2. I'd love to be paid to trip balls.

The first statement comes from Zhuang and me mishearing the statement of profession by the requisite love interest. I insist that this field should indeed exist, as we must explore such concepts as the spending habits of the 1915 streetwalker (was the buffalo nickel the currency of choice for a ZJ?) and what the color of our paper currency says about our sexual preferences. This is the kind of shit that we NEED to spend money on researching!



As for the second statement, this seemed to be an accurate description of William Hurt's job in the movie. The man was paid by Harvard University and its medical school to just do crazy shit, like having fun in isolation chambers and drinking magic jambalaya with Mexican aborigines. I believe that Hurt's position at the school is now unfulfilled, and I would like to submit myself to take over. I have no qualms about hanging out with Native Americans and their various hallucinogens and chilling in glorified swimming tanks. This sounds like my idea of a good time. And oh yeah, I'm sure I could write a paper or two on that crazy shit.

And as long as I get to drink and watch movies.