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Haha so I had a great time making fun of Pat for leaving his business card at Fazoli’s for this girl the other day, whom we finally decided was probably around 18 or 17. Thought for sure she was a high school kid.

Just a little while ago, while browsing the IDS website (I do this often for some reason), I saw a picture on the Campus section:

It should be the only main picture on there, 2 girls, 1 is blonde (this will probably only be up for a day or two). That blonde girl was the Fazoli’s breadstick girl whom Pat left his business card for. And she is an alumna of IU.

So sorry, Pat, she was not 16 and you’?re not more of a pedophile for this incident. Still, you left your business card for the Fazoli’s girl. And for that, it is still a very very funny story. Cue the theme to Curb Your Enthusiasm and cut to black, then credits.

Edit: Feb 14, 1:04AM – IDS changed the link, so I replaced that with the actual pic. Credit to IDS for the photo.

Funniest moment of the day: standing in line at the Registrar’s Office so that I can get a copy of my transcript. If you don’t know the IU Registrar’s office, it’s an old building, old desks, old ladies, and huge weird oil paintings on the walls. It feels like it should be in either a museum or a library.

And then I hear it. Coming from a radio is “What is Love?” by Haddaway. That’s right, the theme song they use for the Roxbury guys on SNL. Freaking hilarious. I could just imagine the old ladies doing the neck bob dance.

I think my blog’s been boring lately, with too much stuff about my life. I was reminded today by Seth of a story from Japan last fall. I will now share it with you all. I have no idea if I wrote about it back when it happened, but if I did, it’s worth re-telling.

So last fall, in Japan, a bunch of us were hungry for some cheap American food, so we all went to Costco. Yes, there is a Costco in Japan, and it’s pretty much the same as here in the states. In addition to pizza, hot dogs, donuts, and giant bags of everything, they have a few more Japanese offerings, like giant plates of sushi, which Ari ate in their entirety. They even had the samples of food, served by African ladies who can’t speak Japanese let alone English. American Costco cards work to get in, but they can’t scan them because apparently the Japanese Costco system doesn’t work with the American one. So if you have any American Costco card, you can get in real easy. Seth used the “Phillip W. Leong” Costco expired card for a good 7 months after I left.

So we’re sitting there eating our pizza in the food court, and we see this dude buy 2 slices. One for him, and one for his wife or mother, we couldn’t tell. What a nice guy, getting food for this female he was with. He walks over from the counter, pizza on plates, and goes to the napkin and condiment stand. Here’s where it gets disturbing. The guy used every single condiment available, and put it directly ON TOP of his pizza. This included salt, pepper, Parmesan cheese, mustard, ketchup, relish, mayonnaise, and raw onions. Probably some other stuff as well. He ended up with 2 pizza slices covered in ooze a few inches thick. Seriously, WTF. Anyway, that was the story, it’s just funny seeing how foreigners mess up other countries food. May I point out the soy sauce on white rice, you Americans?

I’m sitting in the library on a Sunday night, working on some M343 (database marketing, super fun) homework. I’m directly across from one of the laser printers in the lab (Indigo, if you’re that curious), and for the last 5 or so minutes have been cracking up to myself at someone else’s misfortune.

There’s this guy, kind of short and stocky, dreadlocks, sandals, etc, and he must be having the worst night ever. I think he’s having problems printing something, as he’s sitting right near the printer with the most pissed off face I’ve ever seen. He was, for a while, leaning over the machine, as if that would help. Then some other people came up to get their printouts, forcing him to sit back on a little table and look even more pissed off. Actually he also looks like he’s going to cry.

Now he’s back at his computer (which is right behind me), and I think he’s having problems still. When his last thing didn’t print right, for the second time I saw, he crumpled it up and huffed back to his desk. I’m sorry, but this is one of the funniest things I have ever seen! Oh, and now he’s back at the printer, looking at a printout intently. Hahahahahahahaha.

I’ve met the girl that lives across the hallway from me once, while we were both on our way out. By the time I got to my car, I forgot her name. I think it’s Meghan or Emily or something. Anyways, that’s not important. Of note, however, is the fact that I think she’s a drug dealer. At least 5 times a week, she gets like FedEx or UPS packages. And since she’s also almost never home until late, these packages are either piled up in front of her door, or there are the “we missed you!” stickers from UPS on her door. Who gets that many packages?? I’m suspicious…

Well, I haven’t posted anything decent in a while, mainly because I haven’t been doing anything interesting. But oh hoh, here’s a good story. Kinda.

Went to Denny’s last night with Nick and Brian (or should I say Otakon and Ocelot) after Pat’s party. Service was horrible, but the food was so good. None of us had been there since the summer, even though I was the only one with a valid excuse for that, being in Japan for a few months. Anyway, some weird chick started talking to Brian after he came back from the bathroom, which caused her to come sit at our table for a few short spurts, then her gay friend came over and I think he was hitting on Brian. Maybe because they were dressed frighteningly similarly. Haha. Well, after we got out of there, some of their hick friends were outside and tried talking to us as we headed towards the car. Oh and the big Mexican guy called me Iron Chef. That was hilarious. Also as we were getting close to the car I heard one of them say “well obviously he wasn’t gay.” I’m assuming they were talking about me, since I just kind of ignored them and acted like I was pissed off. Maybe they gave me some kind of gay test and I passed it, being straight. There you go: just act pissed off all the time and you’re fine.

So I get home around 4:30AM. Apparently when Frank came to get me to go to Pat’s, I was in a hurry and forgot my keys. Yeah. So that of course, meant I couldn’t get into my house or my car. My first idea was to break down the door, since I did that last summer when I locked myself out on the patio. I decided that probably wouldn’t be the best idea, since it was 5AM on a weekend night, and also it was my front door, not just some back door off of a second floor patio. So, what was I gonna do? I called AAA, they don’t do locksmiths. Called my apartment complex’s emergency maitenence line, but they said that if you’re locked out, you have to call a locksmith. So that’s what I did. But how did I get a locksmith’s number that late at night?

Conveniently, the yellow pages were delivered just a few days ago. And the apartment right across the way from me hadn’t brought theirs in yet. So I of course hi-jacked that phone book and called the locksmith. It took me a few tries to find one that was open or would pick up. I got one finally that sounded like I woke a guy up. Oops. Anyway, I told him to come, gave him directions, and I was set. All I had to do was wait about 30 minutes. He was pretty close on that estimate, although it seemed so much longer. According to Nick’s car thermometer (he told me this morning on IM), it was 12 degrees F last night. I at least had the sense to wait up near my apartment’s door, since it was enlclosed by 3 walls and the wind wouldn’t hit me. I almost went near the dumpster and took a leak because I had to. I just held it though.

Finally the guy shows up, and as I thought, he just had a little bag of lockpick tools. My dad had one of these, and they’re pretty cool. I was able to pick the deadbolt of my house in St. Louis a few years back when we first got that set. Man I need to get one of those for myself. So ya, he picked the lock in literally less than 30 seconds and I was in my house. It felt so warm. That night was the first time I think I’ve actually felt my feet get cold from inside my shoes. Anyway, I had to spend 40 bucks but I figured I’d have to get into my house sometime. So I tried warming up at home, fell asleep, and it was all good. That was my little adventure for the week.