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blue_miles
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Name: chris
Country: Burkina Faso
Birthday: 10/22/1987
Gender: Male
Interests: jazz and running
Expertise: sea of trolls
Occupation: Retired
Industry: Construction
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
12/2/2004
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| Schroeder's Senior Xanga Post IV: Hello Children of the World, greetings and a belated happy new year to you all. Now that all the cool holidays are over (i.e. Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Year's Celebrations, assorted winter holidays) I find myself in the typical lull of finding nothing to look forward to. From now on it seems like one long sustained push to cram knowledge in our leaky heads and a last ditch effort to find someplace to go next year- our only solace is the one week relief of Spring Break. Wait! Wait! I hear some reader's protesting, What about Valentine's Day? Now, assess your gender on your own and privately- ten to one says you are a girl. Nor can I blame you for suggesting such a holiday as quote unquote "something to look forward to". I mean, who wouldn't love to have the most certain knowledge that one will be showered with assorted chocalates, stuffed animals, and other pink, white and red gifts. At the very least your Dad will send flowers to school, right? Also, if you are a girl without a companion, you have an excuse- almost an unwritten right as a female- to gorge on chocolate on this day. Perhaps you will decide to end your day on the couch, with other girls in similar situations, watching cheezy "chick flicks" until your mascara does that weird clown-like dribble down your cheeks. Hold on, hold on, don't get defensive. I am not criticizing, I am speaking out of observation, maybe even jealousy. To see why guys learn to dread Valentine's Day, one need only step back and boil the holiday down to a simple supply-and-demand economic cycle. Now, we have already seen the demand, and everyone knows there is a supply- so in effect, the guy becomes little more than the middle man, the UPS guy making deliveries. The obligation to "deliver the goods" on V-Day dramatically reduces the potential "romantic effect" and thereby forces each guy to rack his brain to try to out-do his relationship-bound brothers. Because we all know that the girls will get together and relate their V-Day exploits- and all guys want to have the girl that can go in smug and confident to school the next day. So, to eliminate the weight that all people put on Valentine's Day, I think we need another ealy spring holiday to kind of space things out. Therefore, I challenge each and every one of my loyal readers (congratulate yourself if you have gotten this far) to go all out on Martin Luther King Junior day on January 16. Think how much better we will all feel going back to school if we feel that we have fully taken advantage of and appreciated MLK Day '06. Let's make banners, T-shirts! Let's have barbecues, ho-downs! Let's tell the radio, television stations! Let's have music festivals, speech reanactments! Let's join hands across racial divisions and smile! Let's join voices and shout love from the rooftops, the basements! Let's shout it from the highways, by-ways, sky-ways! Let's make Mr. King Junior roll over in his grave and dance a jive little jig! Who's with me!?!! Hurrah!!
Chris | | |
| Schroeder's Senior Xanga Post III: Since I last posted, things have only improved. Osaka Tang has officially caught on, and the International Olympic Commitee is deliberating on its inclusion into the next Olympiad. Cross your fingers. Most importantly, my birthday occurred, making me a legal adult. It was just like I dreamed it would be- the second I had officially been alive for eighteen years, my voice dropped even lower, my chest hair grew as fast as my Dad's hair is falling out, and now I shave my chin once a week. The trimester is fast closing, and I will be capping off my senior year running career with the jenks half-marathon on the twelfth. Coincidentally, that day marks four months that Sophie Anne has put up with me. Seriously, if four months fly by like this, what's a lifetime, eh? Also, I am now positive Mr. Payne is the coolest teacher (can I get an amen?) ever, because he goes frolfing with us and lets us read the dirty parts of the Canterbury Tales. I thought as a Senior I would be mature, but I definitely still laugh at toilet humor- naked bum kissing, come on. In closing, I would like to share a physiological fact that will help all you men (and women) determine how much testosterone is in your body. 1) Put your fingers together and look at your index and ring finger. 2) No, really, look Secret revealed: The length that your ring finger exeeds your index finger is an index of the amount of testosterone in your body (i.e. if its alot longer you's gots lots of man juice)- women usually have ring and index fingers of about the same length. The site I found this on said that men who have much longer ring fingers tend to be assertive. In the same vein I can deduce that "men" who have shorter ring fingers than index (cough::cough:: Ryan C. Storey) are little pansy girls who would not even defend their woman from an advancing rapist but would instead run away, climb the nearest tree, and hoot like an owl to try to fool the rapist. Later Chris | | |
| Alright kids, it's time for Schroeder's Senior Xanga Post: II. I am going to be surprised if anyone reads this because I'm pretty sure everyone knows it's a waste of time to come to my site. Well, faithful reader, my senior year has been smooth enough so far; filled with all of the mirth and joy one could ask for. The freshman here literally worship the seniors, and I am no exception. Just the other day I was deemed a demi-god and now go by the name Xanthopropolaugus- it's kind of a hassle to christen babies and appropriately bless all of the peons, but it's a duty I feel I must fulfill. They try their best, but they never can get the crease on my pants just right. Also, Cross Country is in full swing and I go home exhausted pretty much every night, but it is a blast. Most importantly, I am taking the appropriate steps to follow my dream of being a proffesional musician by playing the triangle in the Pride of Bixby High School Marching Band. I am learning the subtleties of coaxing intimate, emotional sounds from the skewed metal from some of the best pit members in the land. A couple schools have offered me full rides in exchange for my unbelievable talent, but it's no biggie. Just another day in the life..... of a senior. | | |
| First full week of school is finished. How am I ever going to do this, what, fourty-something more times?! Oh well, at least tomorrow is my last August twenty-ninth as a high schooler. Also, I think I am already getting sick or something; my lymph nodes (sp?) have swelled up to the size of large acorns and my throat hurts. Any reader who has had tonsilitis, bronchitis, or any other potentially deadly -itis please comment and give me the warning signs; because I definitely would prefer not to die. I think I am also slightly delirious, proof: I woke up at three o'clock and could not sleep, so I went for a run. Now I mean, I like to run just as much as the next guy, but that is just absurd. On the brighter side of things, I just watched Space Jam; and realized what a work of art it really is. From the comical dialogue ("Larry's not white, Larry's clear") to the seamless blend between animated characters and real people, this video will defintiely live forever next to the classics such as "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids" and.... uh...... "Honey, I Blew Up the Kids". Enjoy Week 2 of your school year everyone. Chris | | |
| Ahh summer. Bask in it. Bask in it. However, it's time for laid back, super cool Schro-Schro to skip town and turn into tight, tired, boxers-in-a-wad Schro-Schro. And nobody likes him, right? Blame the establishments, school, the President! I think the first day of school they need to give free vaccinations for Senioritis, but I think I am already infected. What are the warning signs? Nausea-check, laziness-check, feeling of inevitable implosion upon entering school-check, uncontrollable urge to burn school down or at least cause irreparable damage to all teacher's rooms except Clarke dog's-check. The only consolation is the thought of college, so I've got to make it through the year without exploding and landing myself in the Pen. Any words of encouragement or monetary gifts would be greatly appreciated to help me get through this. Chris | | |
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