The blog got its first international visitor the last few days! Congrats mystery person from Austria, if you ever return to see this.
Also, it was discovered on stumbleupon as of yesterday for the first time, and not by me. And apparently the person who did it categorized it under 'scuba diving' which is like the coolest one it could possibly have.
Obviously huge awards and statues are coming next.
4.25.2011
The Assmuncher
My roommate and I have some insane conversations late at nite. It always happens at the most inopportune times. Not the hour beforehand when we are both just farting around on the computer or doing whatever else. Its as soon as the lights get turned off and once of us is trying to sleep. In addition, it generally works out that at least one of us is on the verge of catatonic collapse.
One such nite a few weeks ago, we were talking about scary movies or something. I was explaining something that I feel like no one does but me, because whenever I say it people look at me like I am 4. Regardless of my mental age, I think it has more to do with the fact that NO ONE HAS ANY IMAGINATION ANYMORE.
Here's what I want you to do. Pretend for a second, that something in a scary movie, could and very well might be real. Take the chick from The Ring. Throw away the rational obvious knowledge that its not real for two minutes. Let your whole self be enveloped by the idea and situation. This is what I was telling my roommate.
And imagine, now, its the darkest part of the nite. Something wakes you up, you don't know what it is at first. You look over, and I am gone. My sheets are strewn askew and the bed is empty. Its silent for several seconds. Then, a bump. One single crash. You call my name, two, three times, and nothing. Then out of the shadows something comes. Its really low to the ground, crawling towards you, slowly. Creepily, of course.
Thus begins the legacy of the Assmuncher.
"Well what happened to you?"
"It killed me quickly, and dragged me out of the room."
"So now its gonna kill me too?"
"Well no, because you have already seen it. I was killed because I never saw it coming. You already saw it, so you get the daily special."
"And what's that, do I get raped or something?"
"pretty much."
"well that's boring, I mean right now its just another SVU episode really."
"and it's dick has giant spikes on it. all over"
...
...
"That's quite a situation, I don't think it could get any worse then that."
"and when the monster peaks, the spikes explode."
"well, that would do it."
It continued in this matter for a while, as we spun together the attributes of the worst monster this side of Rebecca Black. I don't know how we ever got to sleep that night. But somehow we did, because we awoke and talked again the next morning:
"Does your ass hurt today?"
"No, I feel fine. The Assmuncher didn't come last nite."
"That's weird though, we were talking about him for hours, what made him not come?"
"I don't know, we need to figure out why though I don't want him to visit again."
"There has to be some kind of trigger. Something we did differently yesterday that changed things."
"Yea, but what? It was a pretty normal evening besides that retarded conversation."
"I'm not sure, we will just have to keep thinking and figure out what happened."
"Wait. This is retarded why are we even talking about this at 745 in the morning?!"
"But Joey we have to find out what hap-"
"No this is stupid as hell, go to class."
Yea, because I'm really going to focus on polar coordinates when the ass muncher is on the loose.
Obviously I pursued the topic during our history class that we and some other friends all share together. Eventually, we figured out that because Joey attempted to play Justin Beiber's "Baby" on my guitar that night, it brought the Assmuncher's wrath upon us. Also, we have found out that the venom in its claws makes it so when it kills you, you wake up alive again the next morning, so the Assmuncher can torture you again and again each night. And if you catch him in the act as he is dragging me screaming from the room, you can say "Assmuncher no assmunching" to make him move on to the next room.
Everything seemed safe and sound, until we forgot after a few days. Because Joey has the musical taste of a preteen girl, he was still obsessed with Baby. Tired of hearing him torture the song by playing one outofkey chord every ten seconds, I played it for him. Then, an ominous wind blew open the door, to reveal the horrible stench of the Assmuncher. OR maybe that was just pot, because our floor is the Jersey Shore meets the circle from That 70's Show. But the point is, we realized now that one of us actually played Baby GOOD, that we were completely fucked.
Earlier in the day, I had taken a balloon from the dining hall. We came back to the room late afternoon, to discover the balloon floating, evilly, in front of our beds. And no joke, this is what we found:
I wish I was joking guys. The Assmuncher revealed himself to us finally, and apparently his hard-on in the only thing keeping him from floating away. Although he definitely looks like a pedophile, I think all our hype may have inflated his head. I mean really, his story is hanging by a string. I think his opportunity to scare us has floated on by.
PS: this is all true. I didn't make an elaborate plot to set myself up to make some balloon puns.
Here's what I want you to do. Pretend for a second, that something in a scary movie, could and very well might be real. Take the chick from The Ring. Throw away the rational obvious knowledge that its not real for two minutes. Let your whole self be enveloped by the idea and situation. This is what I was telling my roommate.
And imagine, now, its the darkest part of the nite. Something wakes you up, you don't know what it is at first. You look over, and I am gone. My sheets are strewn askew and the bed is empty. Its silent for several seconds. Then, a bump. One single crash. You call my name, two, three times, and nothing. Then out of the shadows something comes. Its really low to the ground, crawling towards you, slowly. Creepily, of course.
Thus begins the legacy of the Assmuncher.
"Well what happened to you?"
"It killed me quickly, and dragged me out of the room."
"So now its gonna kill me too?"
"Well no, because you have already seen it. I was killed because I never saw it coming. You already saw it, so you get the daily special."
"And what's that, do I get raped or something?"
"pretty much."
"well that's boring, I mean right now its just another SVU episode really."
"and it's dick has giant spikes on it. all over"
...
...
"That's quite a situation, I don't think it could get any worse then that."
"and when the monster peaks, the spikes explode."
"well, that would do it."
 |
| from nzebula |
"Does your ass hurt today?"
"No, I feel fine. The Assmuncher didn't come last nite."
"That's weird though, we were talking about him for hours, what made him not come?"
"I don't know, we need to figure out why though I don't want him to visit again."
"There has to be some kind of trigger. Something we did differently yesterday that changed things."
"Yea, but what? It was a pretty normal evening besides that retarded conversation."
"I'm not sure, we will just have to keep thinking and figure out what happened."
"Wait. This is retarded why are we even talking about this at 745 in the morning?!"
"But Joey we have to find out what hap-"
"No this is stupid as hell, go to class."
Yea, because I'm really going to focus on polar coordinates when the ass muncher is on the loose.
Obviously I pursued the topic during our history class that we and some other friends all share together. Eventually, we figured out that because Joey attempted to play Justin Beiber's "Baby" on my guitar that night, it brought the Assmuncher's wrath upon us. Also, we have found out that the venom in its claws makes it so when it kills you, you wake up alive again the next morning, so the Assmuncher can torture you again and again each night. And if you catch him in the act as he is dragging me screaming from the room, you can say "Assmuncher no assmunching" to make him move on to the next room.
Everything seemed safe and sound, until we forgot after a few days. Because Joey has the musical taste of a preteen girl, he was still obsessed with Baby. Tired of hearing him torture the song by playing one outofkey chord every ten seconds, I played it for him. Then, an ominous wind blew open the door, to reveal the horrible stench of the Assmuncher. OR maybe that was just pot, because our floor is the Jersey Shore meets the circle from That 70's Show. But the point is, we realized now that one of us actually played Baby GOOD, that we were completely fucked.
Earlier in the day, I had taken a balloon from the dining hall. We came back to the room late afternoon, to discover the balloon floating, evilly, in front of our beds. And no joke, this is what we found:
 |
| Wait, what? Did Casper have a stroke or something? Wtf is that? |
I wish I was joking guys. The Assmuncher revealed himself to us finally, and apparently his hard-on in the only thing keeping him from floating away. Although he definitely looks like a pedophile, I think all our hype may have inflated his head. I mean really, his story is hanging by a string. I think his opportunity to scare us has floated on by.
PS: this is all true. I didn't make an elaborate plot to set myself up to make some balloon puns.
4.18.2011
I'm going to talk about the time I spent two minutes in a freezing stream of fresh snowmelt. Because after I did it I remember having a really strong sense of accomplishment, and it actually taught me something really important. It was actually a precursor to what led to TDID's creation, that was one of the times when I seriously wished I had a blog to better document the event.
I only wish I remembered what that revelation was.
I really hope I remember through the course of writing this.
UPDATE:
This particular trip took its origins from an article in The Week magazine. At the end of each issue, they have an excerpt from a book. I believe they usually find the excerpts from the floors of abandoned meth labs. The interns must all be desperately searching for the next hit, and whatever scraps of paper their drug induced minds find amusing makes it into the next issue. The selection is seriously all over the place, from Mumbai, to killing first basemen, depression, and ice cream. Forget Vanilla Ice, The Week will touch all of that, probably to the point of uncomfortableness.
The article in question was about a man who jumps through an icehole and spends 5 minutes in the freezing water up to his neck. The article spans these five minutes, and uses the experience as a jumping off point to talk about military shipwrecks that resulted in soldiers being thrown into similiar waters, polar bear swimming, and so on. That was years ago but ever since then I have been obsessed.
Thanksgiving became a series of endless cycles. I had to first try to make some kind of excuse as to why I was exiting into the November night wearing boxers and flip floppies. Which not altogether suprising does not usually end with me sounding sane. The feeling spirals out of hand as I tell the truth and attempt to justify why I need to
"go do situps in the snowbank while my cousin hits me with snowballs to toughen up my core."
This leads to my mum pounding down stiff drinks to supress her motherly instincts that tell her I will probably have to be committed before grandpa even.
I'd like to say something like, then in early March of this year, the planets were aligned to give me a chance to attempt it. Or, finally, after years of rigorous mental and physical training, meditating and calming my inner spirit for 5 years with a Tibetan monk master, I was ready. Right after killing a few supervillains, just for good measure. But alas, all these individual scenarios are untrue.
(Or all of them)
No, it just took until March for me to realize that there was nothing to stop me, and I should stop wasting time. Literally, from the point of "I'm going to get this done" and starting the planning stage, to the actual event, spanned probably no more then 3 or 4 days.
That friday, while running with my friend, I brought along some rope unbeknownst to him. I led us to a local park with a river right by the university. (we go to Binghamton) There, I imagine I gave him the rape scare of a lifetime, as he looked bewilderingly on as I started taking off my clothes and pulling a long section of rope from my bag.
I waltzed into the water with one end of the rope tied around my waist while my friend held the other end on shore.
Remember its March, so the river was bulging with snowmelt. With the addition of being freezing, it was also very high, fast, and filled with debris, thus the rope for some protection in the event that I lost my balance. Let that be a lesson to others in turn inspired to do this; doing quoteunquote stupid things is fine in its own right. Just don't do stupid things, stupidly.
The water was up to my thighs, just below my waist. This had been the point of the initial impromptu trip, to test the depth and see if the river was a suitable spot. We left and prepared for the next day when I would spend two minutes.
And at this point I feel like I am writing a dramatic description of the preparations for wartime invasion. So here's an alternate picture from when I was playing the peangos
And also, I would just like to point out my amazing contribution to society:
The next day I packed all my equipment into my hiking backpack:
Thermal underwear
two pairs of socks
poly longsleeve
sweatshirt
windjacket
windpants
sweatpants
flipflops
towel
underarmour
rope
and together with two friends headed to Stair Park. The air temperature was around low 40's high 30's that day. We got to the pavilion, and I meticulously laid out all the clothes, so after I got out I could strip naked, dry off, then redress in a carefully selected order of insulation and call it a sucessful day. I stretched a few minutes in a vain attempt to generate more heat and prevent my muscles from seizing up.
Then my spotter Nafis and I headed over to the stream, with Kevin manning the camera.
The water volume had dramatically decreased from the day before, it was around my knees, but I decided to still do it, figuring I could lie down in it.
The water was cold. There is no crazy overextended metaphor that can even do it justice.
Its not something that can be related to. Unless you have done it, been in water like this, you just can not understand the intensity of it. Jumping in a pool that's 76 degrees instead of 82 just doesn't cut it.
The initial shock is the worst part. The first ten seconds when your upper body hits the water entirely, is like there are little sea-gnomes riding on sea-centaurs stabbing every inch of your body with sea-knives. It physically hurts.
My friends say the second I put my entire body back into the water, my whole face turned white. I felt all the little muscles in my face squeeze tight as I did it. I had partial lockjaw everything was so tight. My entire chest contracted and I started hyperventilating. The water was so cold I literally couldn't breathe.
I had to do several attempts before my body could handle the water and I could breathe at a semi functional rate.
About a few minutes my extremities were completely numb. My feet, which had been in the water for probably ten minutes already while finding where I was going to sit, may as well have been floating down the falls cause I certainly wasn't aware of them.
Theres Nafis, and theres why I wanted a spotter.
I can't feel my penis AT ALL!!
Yet another reason I'm thankful for those guys' help. After it was done, I was stumbling and flailing like one of those cheap "Make X celebrity dance" flash games.
After getting out, the next ten minutes I was on a huge endorphine rush. My adrenaline was pumping hard and I could not feel anything. My oh so well thought out plan for post river survival went to hell. My brain was less there then usual and I barely knew what I was doing. I was running around the pavilion laughing like a madman, slapping my arms and legs trying to regain feeling. I put on random clothes and without Kevin and Nafis probably would have been freaking out. I wish I remember more of those few minutes, but the adrenaline high and my hypothermia slowed brain combined to cause me to forget a lot it. But I do remember at the time, believing that my thinking was exceptionally clear, and feeling great due to the adrenaline.
I only wish I remembered what that revelation was.
 |
| "woops" |
I really hope I remember through the course of writing this.
UPDATE:
This particular trip took its origins from an article in The Week magazine. At the end of each issue, they have an excerpt from a book. I believe they usually find the excerpts from the floors of abandoned meth labs. The interns must all be desperately searching for the next hit, and whatever scraps of paper their drug induced minds find amusing makes it into the next issue. The selection is seriously all over the place, from Mumbai, to killing first basemen, depression, and ice cream. Forget Vanilla Ice, The Week will touch all of that, probably to the point of uncomfortableness.
 |
| "Can't touch this?" from opencage.info |
Thanksgiving became a series of endless cycles. I had to first try to make some kind of excuse as to why I was exiting into the November night wearing boxers and flip floppies. Which not altogether suprising does not usually end with me sounding sane. The feeling spirals out of hand as I tell the truth and attempt to justify why I need to
"go do situps in the snowbank while my cousin hits me with snowballs to toughen up my core."
This leads to my mum pounding down stiff drinks to supress her motherly instincts that tell her I will probably have to be committed before grandpa even.
I'd like to say something like, then in early March of this year, the planets were aligned to give me a chance to attempt it. Or, finally, after years of rigorous mental and physical training, meditating and calming my inner spirit for 5 years with a Tibetan monk master, I was ready. Right after killing a few supervillains, just for good measure. But alas, all these individual scenarios are untrue.
(Or all of them)
No, it just took until March for me to realize that there was nothing to stop me, and I should stop wasting time. Literally, from the point of "I'm going to get this done" and starting the planning stage, to the actual event, spanned probably no more then 3 or 4 days.
That friday, while running with my friend, I brought along some rope unbeknownst to him. I led us to a local park with a river right by the university. (we go to Binghamton) There, I imagine I gave him the rape scare of a lifetime, as he looked bewilderingly on as I started taking off my clothes and pulling a long section of rope from my bag.
I waltzed into the water with one end of the rope tied around my waist while my friend held the other end on shore.
Remember its March, so the river was bulging with snowmelt. With the addition of being freezing, it was also very high, fast, and filled with debris, thus the rope for some protection in the event that I lost my balance. Let that be a lesson to others in turn inspired to do this; doing quoteunquote stupid things is fine in its own right. Just don't do stupid things, stupidly.
The water was up to my thighs, just below my waist. This had been the point of the initial impromptu trip, to test the depth and see if the river was a suitable spot. We left and prepared for the next day when I would spend two minutes.
And at this point I feel like I am writing a dramatic description of the preparations for wartime invasion. So here's an alternate picture from when I was playing the peangos
 |
| Yes, this will fit in perfectly |
 |
Thermal underwear
two pairs of socks
poly longsleeve
sweatshirt
windjacket
windpants
sweatpants
flipflops
towel
underarmour
rope
and together with two friends headed to Stair Park. The air temperature was around low 40's high 30's that day. We got to the pavilion, and I meticulously laid out all the clothes, so after I got out I could strip naked, dry off, then redress in a carefully selected order of insulation and call it a sucessful day. I stretched a few minutes in a vain attempt to generate more heat and prevent my muscles from seizing up.
Then my spotter Nafis and I headed over to the stream, with Kevin manning the camera.
The water volume had dramatically decreased from the day before, it was around my knees, but I decided to still do it, figuring I could lie down in it.
Its not something that can be related to. Unless you have done it, been in water like this, you just can not understand the intensity of it. Jumping in a pool that's 76 degrees instead of 82 just doesn't cut it.
The initial shock is the worst part. The first ten seconds when your upper body hits the water entirely, is like there are little sea-gnomes riding on sea-centaurs stabbing every inch of your body with sea-knives. It physically hurts.
I had to do several attempts before my body could handle the water and I could breathe at a semi functional rate.
About a few minutes my extremities were completely numb. My feet, which had been in the water for probably ten minutes already while finding where I was going to sit, may as well have been floating down the falls cause I certainly wasn't aware of them.
Theres Nafis, and theres why I wanted a spotter.
I can't feel my penis AT ALL!!
After getting out, the next ten minutes I was on a huge endorphine rush. My adrenaline was pumping hard and I could not feel anything. My oh so well thought out plan for post river survival went to hell. My brain was less there then usual and I barely knew what I was doing. I was running around the pavilion laughing like a madman, slapping my arms and legs trying to regain feeling. I put on random clothes and without Kevin and Nafis probably would have been freaking out. I wish I remember more of those few minutes, but the adrenaline high and my hypothermia slowed brain combined to cause me to forget a lot it. But I do remember at the time, believing that my thinking was exceptionally clear, and feeling great due to the adrenaline.
4.17.2011
SHQQKKKKUUAAAKKK
I just made a dolphin noise. It just sort of came from the depths of my dolphin gland and squeaked out of my blowhole like the tail end of a crap. Which for those wondering blowholes are apparently a few inches above your sternum.
Who knew smokers with their throat removed were actually part dolphin? That actually seems pretty offensive to dolphins. Maybe they are more like the weird, 'mom doesn't like to talk about that part of your fathers family in front of company' relatives of dolphins.
And bam, I have a first post.
I've been trying to foray into this experience by amassing a field expedition leaders and twenty climbing sherpas and a large amount of peanut butter. And then I doggone distracted myself and just wrote about how I made a dolphin-esque sound and it reminded me of The Dolphin In Deerskin.
See what I did there? Set the stage for this to be extremely random. Success. When your blog is going to partially be used to keep a bunch of random thoughts and lists in one place, you have to set the tone right off the bat.
You've been warned.
To further emphasize the fact, here's a picture of me playing the bongos with a peanuts can
Have a good day!
Who knew smokers with their throat removed were actually part dolphin? That actually seems pretty offensive to dolphins. Maybe they are more like the weird, 'mom doesn't like to talk about that part of your fathers family in front of company' relatives of dolphins.
 |
| Mention that to my dad again and I'll show you how this dock floats, you hear me Janet? |
And bam, I have a first post.
I've been trying to foray into this experience by amassing a field expedition leaders and twenty climbing sherpas and a large amount of peanut butter. And then I doggone distracted myself and just wrote about how I made a dolphin-esque sound and it reminded me of The Dolphin In Deerskin.
See what I did there? Set the stage for this to be extremely random. Success. When your blog is going to partially be used to keep a bunch of random thoughts and lists in one place, you have to set the tone right off the bat.
You've been warned.
To further emphasize the fact, here's a picture of me playing the bongos with a peanuts can
Have a good day!
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