Forth and Back

I’ve been noticing something lately.  I can’t quite explain it.  Why are people holding their phones in front of them and talking while driving?  I mean I get it, drivers are not supposed to have a phone to their ear while driving but… come on.  Are they fooling anyone with this holding the phone two inches in front of their face?  How is that not just as dangerous?  Sure, sure, it is the speaker phone so it is better but… hello, they’ve gone from holding it at their ear to waving it in front of their eyes.  That seems pretty distracting to me.

Smoke Free Bars:  Come hither.  Madison is smoke free, Illinois is smoke free, and yet… Milwaukee is smokey.  Now when it was just Madison I could see the conservative point of view that, hey that is Madison it is a liberal town.  I didn’t complain too much because I can see there is a fundamental difference between there and here.  But now ALL Illinois bars are smoke free.  I’m not just talking the bars in the ‘burbs, kids.  I’m talking about the ones in my hometown - Middle-of-Nowhere, USA, population: 11 (or 7,000.  Don’t want to insult any hometowners who might stumble in from Facebook.)

What’s worse?!? IOWA is moving in that direction, too.  IOWA!!!  If Iowa goes smoke free first -nearly guaranteed- I’m going to be stupefied.  July, 2008 for them and we are still mired in the lobbying stage somewhere.

I have friends, conservative, or more so than me, in my home town that are digging it.  They have said the same thing all of my friends in Madison are saying.  It’s nice not to have to come home and Febreeze their coats for three days.

Sigh.  I’d go out more if it didn’t include the smoke-stung eyes and the next morning coat stench.  I really would.  Put that in your pipe.

~Forth

Alright first I gotta say that my credit/class situation is improving. Next, I have to tell you that lots of people have been searching for Kristen Davis naked–but I guess I have no one to blame but myself.

In other news, finals are over. Am I relieved? No. Summer classes start in two weeks, so eff that. But with the onset of summer, I find myself thinking about summers of my youth, and a little holiday my three best friends and I used to celebrate every July 15th–EMoSaMeg Day. The summer commenced by us choosing a theme song for the summer. The years elude me but I believe the choices for the three summer holidays we did celebrate were as follows: “Rock Your Body” by Justin Timberlake, “Fever for the Flava” by Hot Action Cop, and “Aqueous Transmission” by Incubus. We would then draw names for gifts like at Christmas, though 9 times out of 10 we’d end up getting each other a bag of Dove chocolates and little else.

Regardless of whether we remembered to celebrate EMoSaMeg Day specifically, we’d have a picnic in our hometown’s Veteran’s Park and spend the evening gossiping on a blanket with glass bottles of Sprite, simply because things are more fun in glass bottles. Now we all prefer a good brew or malted beverage in a bottle, but nonetheless. Later on we’d generally end with a sleepover either in someone’s room lighting incense and candles in the dark then laying on the floor and staring at them, or in a tent in my country-fried backyard. Now at 21, when we old friends barely see each other a handful of times a year, save for the one that drifted far away to a life of Army-wifery and premature motherhood, I’d love nothing more than to celebrate one more summer in such a fashion.

Of course, occasional get-togethers and the combined re-discovery of our hometown via the college district bars which we are now allowed into should serve as good enough. ‘Cause we’re all growns up and we’re all growns up.

**Back

So it was decided that humor wasn’t my thing.  Or at least it wasn’t the thing for this blog.  Instead I needed to be the useful information guy.  So here it is: Instrumental Rock is great.  I recently wandered into the Nine Inch Nails site because of a recently released CD of theirs.  They have offered the whole album free.  I’m not too into their music though and instead I went and downloaded the instrumental work Reznor put up called Ghosts the other day and I’m pleased.  Ghosts is often haunting, sometimes heavy, but always satisfying.  You too can be the proud owner of this NIN experiment.  Nine songs -DRM Free- for nothing more than a few clicks.  Check it out on the top right of their site.  If you like it -I do- then you can pay $5 for the whole 36 song set.

You can also get their other CD, The Slip, free there too.  I may just do that since I like this whole trend of using the internet to push free music.

Another instrumental rock band that I discovered last year is Pelican.  Check them out as well.  I first stumbled onto them through a site called Virb.  It is a myspace like site but classier.  I don’t use it much anymore but it helped me find Pelican so Virb is alright in my book.  Pelican is actually the band that got me started on this instrumental rock like-fest.  I’ve always liked to listen to instrumental music when working.  I take lyrics pretty seriously and I can be easily distracted from grading papers when there are words pumping into my ears.  I’d like to find more of the stuff but I think I am just making up this term instrumental rock.  I mean… its all instrumental isn’t it?  Maybe I should call it Only Instrumental Rock (OIR) or Vocaless Rock (hmm VR is taken…).  Anyway, I like it.  Someone tell me where to find more.

~Forth

Greetings. My name is Back and I am attending college in pursuit of an English degree and Journalism minor. During my five-semester stint at a predominant Big 10 school (yes, one of the ones with a rodent for a mascot), I completed many of my general education requirements such as natural sciences, physical sciences, and math. In addition, I completed a number of higher-level English courses. Now, at the end of my first semester at a smaller state-system university, I am being told I have to take: THREE more natural sciences, TWO more math classes, an INTRO to English studies, and a fiction workshop IDENTICAL to the one I already completed at, let’s face it–a better school. Why? Those Big 10 credits simply didn’t transfer. This, ladies and gentlemen, translates into one extra semester of schooling and I am PISSED.

I cannot even wrap my head around this tremendous waste of time and money right now. It’s not that I have to go an extra semester–that’s almost standard nowadays. Hell, even Forth took 5 years to graduate. It’s WHY I have to. I’m a fucking ENGLISH MAJOR. Do I seriously need Topics in Biology 103 when I’ve already taken Astronomy and Anthropology labs? No. This girl’s got all the science she’ll ever need. I took math up at the Big 10 school and finished though I’m RETARDED at numbers. But I transfer here, take the placement test, where I was asked trig. questions from high school, and suddenly I need to take not only another math, but remedial not-for-credit math as well. The thing is–I can’t get out of this shit. I looked up appeals to the university and not only would that probably not work, it is likely to be “detrimental” to my existence at the university. And that is a direct quote.

It is my nature to freak out about things like this, and I’ve been so upset that I’ve gotten waves of nausea off and on during the past two days, and I feel like I have to force myself into an appetite. I have another meeting with my English adviser tomorrow, but I have a feeling I’m going to have to continue to bend over and take it. Hell, I don’t even want a real job, so I certainly don’t want to dick around with university politics longer than I have to.

Blarughh.

In the immortal words of Incubus “rest assured they’ll screw you complete, till your ass is blue and gray.”

**Back

P.S.–Three cheers for the PB&J make-out sesh at the end of this week’s Office. Giggety!

So some people somewhere made a video of EVERY (or nearly every) Simpson’s opening couch gag.  This is nearly five minutes long so you’re excused from watching it all.

In other news: these are LED Magnetic Throwies and I like the song too.  Check them out at the Graffiti Research Lab.

Back will deride me for reposting this.  I put it up on my tumblr last year but it is still pretty awesome.

~Forth

First of all, “Xenia” managed to get herself wasted enough for hospital admittance early Friday morning, and I puked myself inside out for a total of 13 hours between last night and this afternoon so let’s hear it for us–*clap *clap, okay.

In other news, Xenia and I went to a bridal shop yesterday afternoon to try on wedding and bridesmaid dresses and things. If there is anything you should know about Back, it’s that I don’t like attention, or women. However, it was a decent, non-traumatic experience overall. Had Forth been there he would have gotten a massive kick out of my embarrassment, but he knows this.

First, they strapped me into a bra/corset thing that was too small but I couldn’t remember my bra size at the moment, so shame on me. Also, I was made to put on this huge foofy slip thing that was more of a petticoat, and I probably would have liked it more if I’d gotten to call it that. As if getting the corset on wasn’t exercise enough, the heft and pull of getting in and out of 8 different wedding dresses was enough to make me look like I’d spent two hours at the gym rather than a bridal shop. Thankfully, my “attendant” was helpful but not pushy, and spent plenty of time running errands for other more demanding “brides.” Xenia was also a great help, re-hanging the dresses and adjusting my zippers and stuff. I did my best to ignore the smiles and comments being made by the other sisters, friends, and mothers, and just smiled along politely, hoisting myself up on the viewing blocks only when necessary. I quietly got excited about being all prettied up in all these gowns, though I was not as decisive in picking as I think the employees would have liked. I narrowed it down to three dresses, and three dresses for my bridesmaids, which Xenia changed in and out of with extremely swift, puma-like agility. Impressive, I’m telling you. Of course my mother and sister will have to be there to help me make the final choice, but there has been progress. To be totally honest, I don’t really care a whole lot about my wedding dress. There are billions of dresses to be seen and I’m not going to waste my time look for perfection, especially when it will only be worn once. Either way, I’m going to be more dolled up than everyone there, so why waste my time?

If I learned anything, it’s this: don’t get shitty tattoos. Yes, I’m speaking to the cute little blond girl with angel-wings on her back that totally killed her gorgeous pick-up bottomed gown. There was also a rather…portly middle-aged woman with a variety of faded cheap-looking tattoos (one of which was crafted to look like her shoulder had been clawed open to reveal a cow hide beneath), who brought her baby-daddy along to look, and mused about getting veils at Wal-Mart for 20 bucks cheaper. This, my friends, is a no-no. Women are not kind, and I saw the looks the other chicks were shooting her, and they were not pretty. Just like the woman in question. Ahem.

Anyways, the experience was decent, much like last night’s drunken shenanigans. Let me officially declare here and now that after a month of celebrating my 21st birthday, it’s time to put the citrus vodka away and give my liver rest. It kicked my ass, and I don’t wanna mess.

**Back

I will not try to be funny today.  Instead I will be delivering to you people who are funny.

First up: You Look Nice Today  While it is all funny, check out the quick story at 20 minutes and 20 seconds.

Next we have If Facebook Were Reality

And last from the BBC: That Mitchell and Webb Look

~Forth

So I was thinking about what to write and I thought “Hmm, I’ll start out talking about the sick mofo who keeps searching ‘fingers myself’” but then I looked and WHAM Forth beat me to it. It popped up again today, in another variation-’finger my self.’ And a note to the perv who searched ‘naked princess jasmine’: there’s a special place in hell, buddy. A very special place. AH! I almost forgot about the ’seth rogan naked’ query. For one I doubt he’s done any nudies. For two, SETH ROGAN? No Brad Pitt? Chance Crawford? McDreamy? Nothing against Jew fros, but I don’t want to see Seth Rogan naked unless the words “Katharine Heigl” and “girl-on-top” are involved. Let’s see what kind of search queries we get NOW.

Since this is site is Forth AND Back, I suppose it would be appropriate to mention that today was a very productive day in the realm of wedding planning. We secured our reception venue, thanks to the 7 AM tenacity of my mother, and thus the date: June 20, 2009. The photographer was also booked today, and I got advice from a future new cousin on how far in advance to book blocks of hotel rooms. Yes, I shall pat myself on the……back. So far this wedding business seems to be fairly simple, and I’ve assured all those near me that I will be the calmest damned bride this world has ever seen. I’m fairly certain my mother will take care of freaking out enough for all of us anyways. The end result is going to be the same, no matter when, where, or what type of flowers.

Onto….LARS AND THE REAL GIRL. I didn’t think it was as great as Forth let on, but it was a very lovely film indeed. Ryan Gosling could have done with a shave and a hair-do, then again, I just like ‘em sexy. As a friend mentioned, you’re laughing at things and then you realize Hmm….this IS sad. The scenery was also tragic in that it reminded me of 95% of the outlying little villages near my hometown–hideous home decor and horrid wardrobe choices. It all came together for a very pathetic effect though, that drove the movie perfectly. They also didn’t go too overboard with the psychology thing which was good. I was left with a couple questions upon finishing the movie: Would Lars ever admit that he knew Bianca was fake? And, Hmm, Lars is probably loaded, what with no rent and no social life, but how much does a Real Doll really cost? This, friends, led me to the Real Doll site, which I HIGHLY recommend you visit. Holy CRAP! First I was just curious to see if the dolls spoke their bios when scrolled over like Lars’ co-worker did, which I found hilarious, but unfortunately they do not. According to the site, Lars would have spent $6,499 + tax + $500 shipping and handling for Bianca. That folks, is frickin’ expensive. Want the specs on one of the saddest things EVAR?

Real Dolls are made with 100% silicone, and come in all sizes, with a variety of face choices. For me, it’d be a toss-up between Stephanie-Face 8, or Jenny-Face 11. O, what hotties…They are odorless and flavorless, and come with 3 orifices for your pleasure. While the vagina and anus locations are very lifelike (when water-based lube is used, of course), Real Doll users have reported extremely “intense sensations” while practicing oral sex (featuring ribbed mouths no less) with their dolls, namely Britney-Face 12 (skank totally looks like she can take one), and Gabrielle-Face 16. Big men don’t fear—Real Dolls can support 400 lbs of sweaty, pathetic male-flesh. And yes boys, you can style their hair and safely shower with them. For those of you thinking, Wow, this is great, but I’d really like an additional penis extension, extra wigs, a Glowcock or more pairs of eyes for my Real Biatch, worry not–all of these accessories and more are available. Because some of us are into trannys and 6-eyed hos? Unfortunately for women, there is only one Real Doll face choice for men, and that is Charlie-Face M1, and he looks like a coked-out prison escapee. The penis choices, however, are ENDLESS. Like ‘em big? Tiny? Even flaccid, if you just want to look at it or something. You can put any sort of wang on Charlie, or just buy the torso with penis for only $1299. Not only can you pick the penis, but you can choose the pubic hair. Whether you like your men shaved, trimmed, or au natural, Real Doll can make all of your sad, lonely, neurotic fantasies a reality. Too much of a reality, cum to that. (<-heh.)

Ah, If only Lars had considered that $7000 could buy him like, 800 dates with a paid escort (only 3, if you’re rolling Spitzer-style.) Of course then, there would be no movie. Since this post has gotten a little out of hand (seriously…check the Real Doll site for a great laugh), I’ll wrap it up. More this weekend when I get a visit from one of my best high school friends, whom I shall call “Xenia” for all nostalgic purpose. She is turning 21 and I’ve got enough booze in this apartment to kill a small moose.

**Back

We’re getting a lot of searches for “finger my self” that are generating hits on the site.  What the heck is that about?  

For those of you who aren’t blogging on WordPress there is a blog stats section to the admin tools.  We topped 40 views in one day on the 29th which is cool, but it also tells us how people are finding the site.  Yesterday, finger my self seemed to be a big draw.  Dunno.

Along the same lines, Back has the top three viewed posts.  I guess that makes her the talent and me the facilitator.  No surprise there.  I’m not even entertained by my posts.

The other day in a lacrosse game my friend was checked across the throat by the opposing team.  This generated one of the best situations for sexual innuendos in the history of the world.

My friend, we’ll call him Braveheart, has time to yell at the ref because it was a dead ball. He complains that he was slashed in the throat but the ref does not respond because he’s a ref, thats what they do.

Braveheart is at this point standing nearly dead center of the field with 50-60 people in ear shot and in an echoing voice yells “I’m not going to be able to swallow tonight.”  The opposing bench starts to laugh, possibly snicker, and our sidelines gives him crap about it for at least a quarter.  

The only thing I regret about the whole event was that no one called out a Michael Scott “That’s what she said” or anything similar.  If the ref had said it I’d have died laughing.  I was consoled though by the fact that the rest of the night and most of the next day we managed to question Braveheart’s manhood for any number of swallowing related activities.

We watched Lars and the Real Girl last night and Back is antsy to let you know how much she loved it.  I’ll just say, it was a good movie with almost no flaws in it.  Top to bottom their was skill displayed in every aspect of film making.  I’ll let her gush about it later.

Oh and remind me to tell you how I was once taken by security and thrown out of Wrigley Field.

~Forth

When I move, I generally start packing about two months in advance, just like I pack my suitcase two days before I go on a trip. It is kinda stupid, but I get anxious. I consider it less to do when things get down to the wire, plus in the case of Forth and I, we are moving sooner than anticipated anyway, so it sort of made sense this time. Unfortunately, we still have 3 or so weeks to go, which means 3 more weeks of irritating roommates, and dealing with the persistent dirt and dust of a 70-year old rental property.

It doesn’t matter if I have the coolest, nicest, cleanest, roommates in the world, ol’ Back here was just not meant to live with ANYBODY (but Forth….I guess). I am a loner–the lone sheep that purposely strays from the flock in search of the most secluded cave where there is the least chance of anyone happening by. In the case of THIS apartment, our roommate in question (we’ll call him Scuba) and his girlfriend (we’ll call her Dramz) are college freshmen trapped in the bodies of nearly 30-somethings. I like lists, so I shall give you one containing the reasons I am stoked to move out, in no particular order:

1.) No more of Scuba and Dramz’s Qdoba bags, dirty dishes, Diet Mt. Dew cans, and salt and pepper packets (who uses these anyway??) to pick up in the living room.

2.) Forth and I will get to reclaim use of the living room and TV once again, since it is apparently ursa roomateaus‘ natural and preferred habitat.

3.) No more wood floors. I’m not talking Pergo here people. These floors are real wood and real old and somehow, two seconds after I get done vacuuming, more dust bunnies and filth have already emerged from the wooded slots. EVERY TIME! As of now, I am probably sweeping up somebody’s donut crumbs from 1952.

4.) We will have a vent in the kitchen. When dealing with the girl who has recently taken up homemade cream cheese wontons (who also previously thought wax paper was okay in the oven) and has no idea when oil is hot enough, an exhaust vent is key. Till then, open windows and fans will have to do the trick.

5.) No more DVR clogged with “The Hills,” “The Real World: Hollywood,” “Access Hollywood,” “Dateline NBC: The Rise and Fall of Britney Spears,” “Entertainment Tonight,” “E! News,” and “Dane Cook: Live and Douchy in Las Vegas.” It’s no wonder Dramz can’t handle a conversation using words with like, more than like, two syllables.

6.) No more DDR-playing, quick-footed Asian child running about upstairs—alright so we’re not sure about that. But we’ve SEEN the girls who live above us and they’re not fat. So HOW in the WORLD do they make it sound like the running of the bulls at Pamplona up there all the time?

7.) Usable space. Sure this apartment is big and pretty, but the amount of floorspace that can be used by two boys and a girl with the desire but no means to decorate is minimal. And like I mentioned before, it is caked with ages worth of old, permanent dirt.

8.) No more larvae in the shower. Forth has tried everything to get these tiny worms to go away, but about four or five show up every morning and while they can deftly be swept down the drain, I have a hunch that some turn into tiny gnats that live in the shower curtain. We do not know what they are or why they’re there, but it is gross.

9.) No more being subjected to the loud, obnoxious sex being had by the building manager and her husband who live in the basement, every other time I do laundry. Alright so it’s only happened twice, but that was enough. Not only is it disgusting but boy, do they think they’re superstars….

10.) No more sharing the bathroom with three other people on a Tuesday night when we all decide to go to bed at the same time and have to get up for work in the morning, and then having to fight Dramz for sink time when she already has a perfectly empty house she could be getting ready in.

11.) Forth gets his own office. Now I do not have to shove ear buds up against my ear drums in order to watch “Desperate Housewives” on my computer while he plays Starcraft and banters loudly with his other nerd buddies on Vent. Speaking of…no more Forth watching “The West Wing” at midnight when I have to get up for work at 5:45 the next morning and he can’t go out in the living room because Scuba and Dramz are partaking in the latest episode of “Rock of Love 2″ on VH1.

12.) We will be free of Scuba’s blatant disregard for the beauty and innovation that IS Tupperware, as he has a penchant for keeping his leftovers right in the receptacle where they were cooked, which is more oft than not, our best and only saucepan.

Alright I’ll stop at 12, ’cause I think I’m starting to annoy myself. Forth and I have Good Night and Good Luck and Lars and the Real Girl waiting patiently near the TV, but since I am closing for the fourth night in a row at the coffee shop, we haven’t really had the time to sit down for a movie. I’m not sure what Forth was talking about when he said one of us will get drunk next week. Hell, he was drunk last night and I’ve got a few cosmos on deck for this evening…

**Back