Turkish Prison

November 24, 2011 - 25 Responses

Good morning. It’s that awkward time of the night where you know it’s the next day but you still feel like you have to refer to the current date as “tomorrow”. And then when you actually refer to it as “today,” you almost feel bad because you’re obviously confusing everyone everywhere. Good job.

I don’t write very often, but when I do I write, I write blogs that are often times pretty lengthy. That makes me feel better for only posting 4 blogs a month. You people who post everyday, and sometimes multiple times a day – I don’t know how you do it.

Maybe some more free time would allow me a few extra hours a week to torture you all with my ugly ramblings. But probably not since I’m the king of Procrastination Land (it’s pretty there) and I like making excuses so I don’t have to work. One day last week I told myself that if I typed any more on the computer my fingers would turn to dust, get caught in a gust of wind, and I would be left with nubs.

The week before that I decided that my eyeballs were feeling especially juicy and if I stared at the computer screen for much longer they would melt into my mouth and I can’t imagine that my juicy eyeballs taste very good. Better than some things, I suppose. Like brussel sprouts. Worst invention ever. Thanks a heap for that, God (Only kidding, I love youuu).

Anyway, I’m usually awfully sarcastic and dramatic when I write. I’m sad to say that I’m not always like this in person. I’m actually really optimistic and caring or empathetic or whatever. And since I haven’t gone a post without day-dreaming of Boosin falling down a well or strangling Shannon with her hair remenants, I’ll be somewhat normal this time.

It’s Thanksgiving, by the way. I almost shortened that out to “btw” but then I though about when people say “b-t-dubbs” and then I got annoyed. But it’s Thanksgiving. Tis the season not for annoyances, but rather pre-mature Christmas decorations, elementary school kids singing “This Land is Our Land” hand-in-hand, turkey fryers exploding, and people pondering the many things they’re thankful for.

I’m thankful for a lot of things. More things than I could possibly write about. Plus, you’d probably get annoyed and peace out halfway through reading it if I did that. So I’m not going to do that.

Half that, maybe.

In all sincerity, I’m thankful for my experiences – those good and bad. I’m even thankful for getting cancer my freshman year. It gave me a rare opportunity to see what so many people end up having to suffer through in their lifetimes. It changed my perspective on life, and it highlighted the incredible group of friends and family I have. There’s something to be said about unconditional love – and my family and friends provided me with it when I wasn’t always so wonderful to them. I cannot adequately enough explain what they mean to me and I certainly wouldn’t trade these people for the world. Shannon included (I know you were probably wondering).

I’m thankful for the opportunities I have, especially with my education. I definitely don’t try as hard as I should all of the time, but I’ve gotten pretty good at reminding myself that I have a wonderful opportunity to better myself and make a difference in people’s lives, and that I need to take advantage of that as often as possible. I’m also thankful for my job, even if the pay is crap. Having a job – period – at a time like this is incredible, and I shouldn’t complain as much as I do. I work with an amazing group of people, and I can’t get over how much I’ve learned in the short 3 months I’ve worked there.

I’m thankful for every situation I encounter day-to-day. I’m a firm believe that good comes out of every situation – no matter how dark it may seem. Sometimes, you just have to look hard enough. I’m also thankful for my boyfriend. We’ve had our ups and downs, but we’re always going to find our way back to each other. The situations we’ve found ourselves in together, no matter how bad they have looked to other people, have only given us a reason to do better. I don’t know what I’d do without this kid. He’s my Jim Halpert, after all.

Finally, I’m thankful for sarcasm, wit, and humor. Humor saved my life – it’s what got me through chemotherapy. It’s what allowed me to come out of that part of my life with my spirit intact. Humor has always been the thing that has kept me resilient. My ability to laugh at myself and make light of a rough situation will always be one of the small handful of things I hold above everything else. It gets people through.

It got me through.

Oh, and also – I’m very thankful that I’m not eating Thanksgiving dinner at Shannon’s tonight. Although I may stop by. However, only if Boosin get’s whipped up by a mysterious gust of wind and carried out of the apartment. Along with his stank.

Shannon called me to tell me there was a turkish prison in her oven. That obviously means she’s cooking a turkey in her oven. Which actually makes me a little concerned for those that’ll be eating it. She’s actually getting better at cooking, though. Better than burning absolutely everything she ever attempts to cook, that is.

But better, none-the-less.

Also, I’m thankful for the fact that I actually was able to scare my mother this morning. While she was talking on the phone and washing the dishes, I crept up behind her and tickled her neck (I’m so freaking creepy). She jumped, and turned around slapping me in the face just before sticking her dish-water-soaked glove in my mouth. UGH.

I change my mind. I’m not thankful for that.

Well, if you haven’t figured it out yet, I wrote half of this last night and half this morning. Mostly because I got lazy. But somehow I feel like you already knew that!

Things to look forward to: Taylor from It’s Taylor Made will be writing a guest blog for Eldon where she will dive deep into the awkwardness that is her and pick out a memory that will have us laughing so hard that we’ll soil ourselves.

Also, Boosin is writing a blog. Ew.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, everyone!

Cheers,

Patch

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Gerb. Verb. Serbian.

November 21, 2011 - 14 Responses

I was at Shannon’s yesterday, and she delivered some disgustingly terrifying news to me. I don’t say “disgustingly terrifying” very often. In fact, I’m confident in saying that the only time I’ve used that combination of words is when referring to someone in particular. Something, rather. Something evil. Something dark. Something that echos the cries of children around the world. The very something that eternally plays on the playscape of the Devil. The playscape of the Devil, you ask?

I’m referring to Hell, la durr.

But who am I talking about? I feel maybe a third of you know who I’m talking about, and I’m deeply sorry to those of you. I share your pains. I may have caused them, even. By opening your vulnerable souls up to the terrors of this little nasty, I took your dreams and replaced them with nightmares. Probably shaved tens of years off of your life, even. I’m very sorry for that.

I however couldn’t live with the guilt of not educating the world of this level of evil, and what form it’s decide to take this time. I’ve felt for very long now that this very evil I speak of has been growing more powerful as he’s gotten older. His power to deceive and come across as innocent. His power to appear to some as a “baby angel man” or a “little pumpkin gorbin”. He is neither.

I’ve consulted my loins. They told me this was coming. My loins are never wrong.

I’m talking about none other but Shannon’s dog. Boosin. And for those of you who don’t know who Boosin is, I invite you to scroll to the bottom of The Faces of Eldon for his profile, or read some of my earlier blog posts from last Fall like Does The Boosins Have Large Talons? or Fruit Cake where I mention him briefly.

Puffinlube, Gorbin, Stobin, Weezel, Buddy. Call him what you want. Shannon definitely does. But do not be deceived. He’s not your buddy. Those awful pet names make him out to be something innocent, which he is certainly not. His soul is dirty. And filthy. And covered with even more grime on top of all that dirt and filth.

I sometimes think his body is just full of vomit. Kind of like when Shannon told me that when she was younger she thought her stomach was just full of blood. A lot like that, actually. Maybe a combination of vomit and blood.

I’m getting sick thinking about this. Ewwoahh. Gurrddllll. (Stomach gurglings)

So, when Shannon told me this awful news, my heart just sank. Sank to the smelly pits of Hell. If you see it, I’d love to have it back, thanks.

Please hit play before reading the following.

She informed me that Boosin would be visiting her apartment for Thanksgiving. immediately the theme song from “Children of the Corn” started to play in my head.

“Oh GOD, WHY?!” was my response.

It was almost as if a dark, dense cloud began to loom over my head. The stench of sulfur and old bananas filled the air. The sound of small children shrieking rang out in the distance. The sky turned black, and the sun ceased in showing its light. A roll of thunder shook the heavens as thick bolts of silver lightening touched the surface of the earth. I began to shiver, and weep uncontrollably.

It became very cold, very quickly. Suddenly, a gust blew in the windows and sent stray papers swirling across the living room. Pots and pans danced in the cabinet. Doors swung open, just before slamming back into the wall. Water glasses shattered, sending sharp glass fragments through the air.

And then, it stopped. My soft cries continued on, and a small grin spread across Shannon’s face. Lexi ran into her room screaming uncontrollably. Boosin had made the evil of his black soul known. An evil I didn’t know existed.

Okay, so that’s not what happened, but the emotional trauma I faced after hearing this prevented me from remembering what really happened, but I’m sure this was pretty close. Shannon’s response to me asking why this was happening was probably something along the lines of “Because, he’s a beautiful little angel boy!” or “He’s a little pumpkin muffin cutie handsome muffin cutie angel boy man!” I was, at first, tempted to spew out an array of vulgar curse words before eventually storming out the door (something I don’t have the heart to do. I feel Taylor Made could teach me a thing or two here.)

You can bet I won’t be in that apartment for at least 24 hours after Thursday. This is to allow time for Boosin’s demon followers to clear out.

Also, the smell. Only time can get rid of the smell.

I just can’t for the life of me understand why she loves him so much. I feel bad, even. It’s a very sad story, I’m sure. Little girl seeking affection and love comes across homeless wiener dog. Love at first sight. But why is it always innocent children that the Devil and his minions go after?

All of the classic horror movies prove it. The Poltergeist. Child’s Play. Village of the Damned. The Omen. The Shining. The Exorcist. Children of the Corn. Must I go on?

Shannon’s definitely not innocent anymore, though. Last night she told me that my homosexuality is a disease that I’ve chosen. Also, she said God hates me.

She was kidding, though. I think. She fed me pizza and cookies so I instantly forgave her for the filth she just spit all over my face.

So aside for my current annoyance with the fact that Boosin will be running around Shannon’s apartment like a lunatic all day Thursday, I don’t have much more to say. The past few weeks have been very busy for me, and I feel that will be my excuse for not blogging for twelve days. Honest to blog!

Btw, I love spelling “twelve” out. It’s just a really cool word I think. It’s like a combination of “welcome” and “velvet”. Like a red carpet or something. A welcome velvet carpet.

Also, “elv”. Which is very close to “elf” but not quite. Anywayy.

I’m currently rambling, which I’m also sorry for. I’m also sorry for this blog lacking in good content or anything interesting/exciting. I just felt the need blow off steam. So to finish this blog I’m going to tell you what “Gerb, Verb, Serbian” means (Shannon’s attempt to come up with words on Words With Friends) and leave you with a few voice messages that Shannon and Lexi have recently sent me. Have a super Monday, ya hurrd?

– WUT.

– Pretty sure I got this one in the middle of the night. Also, when I played this Sophie jumped off my bed in a frenzy and fled from my room.

– Lexi telling me not to poop in her mouth.

Uhm, well. So..

Cheers,

Patch

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Sour Milk & Other Yumpy Things

November 9, 2011 - 56 Responses

I don’t have anything interesting to say today.

You’re probably thinking one of three things.

1. When do you ever have anything interesting to say, Patrick? You’re mostly awful and annoying. You really should think about coming to terms with that. Do us a favor. Also, stop posting so many Facebook statuses. And just because you have a Twitter account now doesn’t give you the right to flood other innocent people’s feeds with obnoxious statements. We don’t need to know every time your neighbor’s chickens go yumpy when the wind blows.

2. So, if you don’t have anything interesting to say, why are you saying anything at all? It’s pretty simple. Stop talking.

3. Even though you don’t have anything interesting to say, I somehow think this will still be interesting. More interesting than me doing nothing, anyway. If I had something to do I’d probably do that instead. But I don’t. So I’m reading this.

I think my ability to be honest with myself makes me a happier person. Sometimes. I also sometimes think about crying. So then I do. It helps me cope with how honest I am with myself. I have to blog today, though. Blogging is good. Blogging is fun. And to blog often is uhm.. makes for uh… ..makes for a good blogger! SO TODAY I BLOG.

Anyway, I think it’s important for everyone to know that my infatuation with Jim Halpert has just been taken to a whole new level. The other day I was asking myself: Would a wrist watch look good on me? My initial answer to that question was: No, Patrick. It won’t. You’re tall, awkward, and pasty white. Why would a wrist watch look good on you?

So I felt like crying for a little bit.

Then I googled “How to be like Jim Halpert”. I found an article on wikihow that would help me out. Here’s a few things it suggested:

1. Be clever and smart.

I’m sometimes clever and smart! Sometimes. Eh, not really.

2. Shake off insults.

I pride myself in my ability to not accept shit from people. I wait until I’m by myself to sulk in a puddle of my own tears.

3. If something doesn’t work out, never give up.

I’m currently working on this. Currently, it’s working in my favor. You know who you are.

4. Always be the guy who is laid-back, friendly, humorous, sly and always good looking.

I’m pretty laid back. As in I didn’t get out of bed until noon today. CHECK. I’m very friendly. CHECK. Humorous? A work in progress. HALF CHECK. Sly? Definitely not. NO CHECK. Always good looking? Uhm. Definitely not always. I’ll settle with sometimes sort-of good looking. SORT OF CHECK.

5. Always wear a wrist watch.

I’ve already decided that I’m not attractive enough for a wrist watch, but Jim Halpert is also tall and white (although perfect) so that was enough for me to justify googling the exact wrist watch that Jim Halpert wears on The Office. Victorinox Swiss Army Infantry #24654. I got very excited. However, it was a $350 dollar watch. So then I got sort of depressed.

UNTIL I FOUND A USED ONE FOR $50 DOLLARS ON AMAZON.

Hey, thanks Amazon.

Also, thanks mellow_melly for selling such a great watch for such a super price. Thanks a heap!

So you can bet I bought that watch. And it looks GUD.

So, now that I’m done talking about that I’m not quite sure what to talk about now.

Except Shannon texted me last night to tell me that her night class’s room smelled like a cat had exploded in it. I thought that was pretty funny.

Also, a while back I was in class and got “Polenta”, the tasty grainy-mush dish, confused with “Placenta”, the sack of goo located in a pregnant woman’s womb.

The conversation went as such:

Me: “Oh, you’re going to Texas Culinary Academy? My sister went there!”

Classmate: “Really? What kind of stuff is she doing now?”

Me: “She’s a pastry chef. Makes a mean lemon-blueberry scone. And cake balls. She’s just a really good pasty chef.”

Classmate: “Yeah, I’m not sure what I want to do exactly. Right now I’m just trying a lot of new things.”

Me: “Ah, I gotcha. There are some things I’d like to try. I always see people on cooking shows talking about placenta. I’d like to try placenta. Have you had it before?”

Classmate: “Wait.. Did you say…?”

Three other classmates: “OMG, what!?”

Me: “Ohhh.”

That was fun. Speaking of goo, upon pouring some milk into my bowl of Kashi cereal just now, I was saddened to find a white-phlegm looking substance slathered over the top of my crunchy clusters.

Sure enough, the milk expired the day before Halloween.

I’m not sure what to eat now.

Before I go, I want everyone to know that I’m writing this in Nichole’s attic. It’s messy up here.

Cheers,

Patch

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There Runs An Apache

November 2, 2011 - 14 Responses

I can sometimes be super naive.

I’ve been on a job hunt for the past week. My weary soul has begun to buckle under the pressure of trying to move out and support myself while working 25 hours a week with pay just barely over minimum wage. As much as I love my job, the stress of not making enough money is slowly leaching the life out of me. What are my options here?

Well, I could try looking for a new job or… collapse in on myself like a dying star. The latter is tempting, but I’ve decided to entertain the first, first.

I’ve applied for about a dozen clerical positions on Craigslist to have – you guessed it – almost no promising responses. And for a moment this morning, I thought that my luck was about to shift. I got an email from an international property investment company looking for a full-time administrative assistant to work at home at 54,000 a year. John Pronner from HR was offering me to work a trial period of 3 weeks to test my qualifications at 800 per week.

Hey guys, does something smell funny to you?

Something definitely stinks. And stinkage thy name is… JOHN PRONNER FROM HR.

I looked into their website which at first glance looks legit. They have a phone number and everything. I kept getting their voicemail, which was a recording of an Egyptian-sounding man trying to explain why the phones would be down and why they wouldn’t be able to answer any incoming calls. I then received an email asking me for my social, as well as a signature on a policy agreement that promised pay by mail 21 days after commencement.

Well Mr. Pronner, I’ve got news for you, you pathetic little Egyptian-sounding man. I’M ON TO YOU. It took a phone conversation with my mom to begin to see through your wicked evil-doing, but I see through you no less. You’ve been found out.

John Pronner from HR, you deserve to be dumped in a well. A very, very deep well. Filled with hot lava. How dare you take advantage of an innocent college student? I should have smelled your lies hours ago – they smell of old tomatoes… and dirt. It feels like you took my heart and dropped it into a pot of boiling tears. And I don’t say that very often.

Although, I did say it last week when I accidentally dropped my pizza on the floor. That was bad. And extremely depressing. Sort of like this. A lot like this, actually.

The picture above should accurately illustrate the current emotional state of my soul.

John Pronner from HR reminded me of something today: I’ll sometimes believe anything that sounds too good to be true. Mostly because I’m overly optimistic about things. I’ll also believe anything that I have my heart set on.

Kind of like this morning when I had my heart set on the belief that there was a ghost playing with the forks and spoons in the kitchen downstairs. I texted Shannon while she was at work to give her a heads up in case anything happened to me. She replied by telling me she was cold and then requested I bring her a warm blanket. I responded by telling her that there was absolutely no way I would be able to bring her a blanket since my house was being invaded by ghouls.

I have priorities.

The house turned out to be clear, though. I checked every room with a small pocket knife in-hand in case I had to shank Casper.

So, as of now, my job search continues on. I was excited to find out that the person running one of the legit job ads on Craigslist had emailed a response to my application.

In about 300 words, he basically told me no. And in order to raise my spirits, I tried dancing around my house to “Pocket Full Of Sunshine” by Natasha Bedingfield. Kind of like this.

I’m in denial, though. I sometimes lie to myself. I in fact don’t have a pocket full of sunshine. All that did for me was make me look a little too homosexual. I’m considering other options to boost my morale, though. I may try looking for a rainbow to slide down or something.

One that’ll dump me into a pot of gold.

Outside of the bubble of soul-engulfing sadness I’m suffocating in, Shannon got a new job as a receptionist at St. David’s North Austin Medical Center. I’ve been taking her to training ever morning at 7:15. I originally thought that would lead me to sob uncontrollably, but I’ve actually enjoyed starting a bit early.

She sent me this about an hour ago, “I’m learning how to register new patients and I had to make a random profile. So if you and Lex ever have a child and it happens to be an Asian male, he’ll already have his information on file at ADC. Only problem is, he was already born on October 7th of 2001. When you were ten. No big deal.”

So, I have a son. With Lexi.

Clare, who I haven’t seen in ages, tried a sample of Jack3d (the pre-workout supplement) with the 1-3-dimethylamylamine that’s saved my butt at work on multiple occasions. She texted me in a panic today informing me that she felt like needles were poking the hell out of her face and hands.

“Omg. I hate it. I’m dying.”

I didn’t respond to her. I feel somewhat responsible.

And as for the title for today’s blog, that was something Shannon said the other night while under the influence of alcohol. I promised her I would title a blog after it. I would expand on it if I could, but what else is there to say about a statement like that? What does it even mean? Your guess is as good as mine.

A couple of things before you go.

1. October 28th was the one year anniversary of Awkward Eldon’s first blog post! Not that you care. But you should like us on our FB Page anyway. Twitter, too. Follow our Twitter Page. K thanks. Now we’re all set.

2. Drop by Nichole’s blog and read her 2nd most recent post entitled “Interview with a Non-Celebrity who May Someday Become a Celebrity: Awkward Eldon“. Just her 2nd most recent. It’s about me. You can read the others if you absolutely have to I guess.

Cheers,

Patch

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Thief Bastard Boy

October 11, 2011 - 13 Responses

So, I’m hearing things.

And I’m not talking about voices.

Farts. I’m hearing farts.

Can you just for a moment try and imagine the emotional toll that can have on somebody?

At some point in my Social Statistics class, I heard some great, tumultuous bang emerge from an area just a few feet away from me. I’m probably exaggerating a little. A lot.

This of course had to happen during group presentations. I immediately grabbed my phone and texted Bianca, who sits to the right of me. The following was my text, “QUESTION. Did someone on the left side of this room just break wind?”

She didn’t answer.

I thought for sure I was going crazy. Why didn’t anybody look like they were trying with all their might to suppress the inevitable giggles? Was it me? Was I the culprit? Was I the one spraying miniscule fecal particles all over the room during Paula’s very interesting presentation?

No, I would have felt that one.

Also, I would never – NEVER – let something like that happen. I’m not at all the kind of person to release vile ass fumes in public and sit there like nothing happened.

I feel the evil-doer was the older woman to the left of me. She wouldn’t stop flapping her gab during the commenting part of the presentation. I’m almost certain she was doing this to cover up any foreign noises or vibrations that were about to surface. I’ve got her figured out.

In other news, Shannon accused me of being a “thief bastard boy” for allegedly stealing her falsely credited word “scorpion woman”. Might I remind her that it’s not hers to claim. I in fact stole that from Ron Burgundy’s character in “Anchorman”. Shannon can think what she wants, but that’s the absolute truth. Don’t let your weary mind be led astray by her abominate nature and poisonous deceit.

Last night at work Carole King’s song “I Feel The Earth Move” played like 6 times. So naturally when I got home I watched this video on youtube.

Well, I actually watched it like 3 times. I couldn’t help myself. Listening to Mary Roach’s gruesome and frankly offensive voice during her rendition of this song is like watching a train wreck. It’s terrible, and very sad, but you just can’t take your eyes away.

I then moved to the bed where I laid next to a slice of pizza I would soon devour and watched outtakes from The Office. If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I’m obsessed with gag reels from movies and tv shows. They’re like some euphoric drug for me. I don’t even have to have seen the movie, or follow the show. I go ape-shit over that stuff.

Why that’s the one thing above all things that you should know about me, I don’t know.

Today, in my attempt to make myself feel better, I asked my good friend Christa to like my Facebook fan page for the blog to in turn give myself an even more falsified display of how many frequent readers I have.

She said no.

I then threatened to tattoo a picture of a pack of wild ring-tail lemurs on her ass if she didn’t.

I now have 14 Facebook fans.

Cheers,

Patch

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Scorpion Woman

October 10, 2011 - 4 Responses

Would you like to know what’s awkward? My pants ripped at work the other day. Right up the crotchal region. Basically, my goods could have easily been on display without me knowing about it. I wasn’t aware of the rip until 20 minutes before my next shift the following day. Super.

I rushed to find another pair of slacks in my closet to wear, but I unfortunately had only one other pair. This particular pair of pants didn’t help me in the slightest. They were so tight my ghetto booty could have easily burst out the seams. I jokingly asked my boss if they made my butt look too big, and I can tell my question made him feel very uncomfortable as he recoiled a bit and reluctantly examined my back-side.

This month we’re asking customers to donate a dollar to the Vitamin Angel foundation. They provide Vitamin A supplements to children in third-world countries to prevent blindness due to deficiency. Customers have the option of writing their names on a card that says “Be An Angel” so we can add it to our wall of people who have donated.

My boss asked me to place them on the wall so that it displayed the foundation’s slogan. He thought I would be creative enough to make it happen. I was flattered, but he was definitely mistaken. I was going to put “BE” and “AN” on one side of the front entry way, and “ANGEL” on the other. Before I even finished the first side, I stepped back to find something was very wrong. I called my boss over, and asked him, “That says ‘BEAN’ doesn’t it?” He was too polite to tell me it did, but I knew what I had done. He suggested I offset the “N” in “AN” to differentiate the two words, but it unfortunately just made me look uncoordinated. The front of the store would soon display “BEAN ANGEL”. That’ll get them to donate for sure.

Today Clare decided to bombard me with the world’s strangest questions. The following was our conversation.

CL: Do you wish you were born in Canada?

Me: …

CL: Do you love the United States?

Me: …

CL: Do you love the state of Texas?

Me: …

CL: Are your legs warm?

Me: …

CL: Are they cold?

Me: …

CL: Do you wish you were a little bit taller?

Me: …

CL: Do you eat mushrooms?

Me: …

CL: …So you don’t?

So… that was my day at work today. I told her that I ordered all the pieces to my Pauly Bleeker Halloween costume, and that I was really excited. She proceeded to tell me she thought Juno was stupid. I told her to shut her freaking gob. Fo shizz.

Also, I want a hamburger phone.

Seriously though, my costume will be legit. Shannon thinks her and Lexi should be these two little precious gems from Stephen King’s “The Shining”.

I’m usually the Danny Torrance in this situation, and so I’m pretty confident this is one of her better ideas. Also, I think Clare has her costume figured out. She sent this nugget of gold to me today. She’s a Clarewolf. Get it? …Alright, nevermind.

Dinner couldn’t have been more filling. My father had to tell me that I wasn’t allowed to leave the dinner table until I finished what was on my plate. I’m 20, by the way.

So I sat there. I even dozed off at one point. I never thought sitting in front of a plate of food could be so heart-breaking. I knew If I ate another bite that my stomach would eventually form a mutiny against me along with the rest of my gastrointestinal tract. I wasn’t going to be leaving the table anytime soon.

On the other end of the room my mother sat on the couch, laughing at me. It was more of a troll-like giggle than a laugh, actually. I shouted across the house, “Stop laughing at me, you scorpion woman.”

Sadly, that only escalated her gollum-like giggle fit.

My dad left the kitchen, leaving me enough time to slip my sad, cold leftovers into the trash. I ran upstairs and hid under the covers. When I eventually emerged from the dark abyss of blankets, I found a stale potato chip stuck to my thigh. Neato, gang.

I’m 20. I promise. I think.

Anyway, tonight I noticed that I lost two twitter followers. I thought the disclaimer in my bio reading, “As long as we’re being honest, I’m also awkward and annoying.” would be plenty of a warning for people. I guess not. I’m obviously a winner, though. I know it. You know. Except in reality, we’re all really just lying to make me feel better.

I mentioned on Facebook that I wanted more people to follow the fan page for my blog. My mom commented on the status calling me “desperate”. Immediately after she posted her comment I heard her repulsive hobbit laughter start-up again. What does she know? Desperate? Me? That’s ridiculous. I’ll remind her that every time she’s dishonest like this, a small child cries. If that doesn’t work, I’ll threaten to take our her tonsils with red-hot tongs or piranha teeth or something.

If she reads this she’s definitely going to slap me.

I’m not too worried about not having more than 11 fans on Facebook. I saw that my blog shows up when you search “Fat Kid” or “Fat Kid Laughing” in the WordPress search bar so… If that doesn’t bring home the bacon, I don’t know what will.

Well, it’s taken me far too long to write this blog, and it’s not even that good, so I better split. Also, my mouth is really dry and I need a drink. Water, to clarify. Because I definitely don’t need alcohol, and soda’s bad for my weak-ass teeth.

If you subscribe I promise to write a better blog next time. If you don’t, I’ll continue to write dumb blogs that don’t apply to anything ever.

That will most likely not affect you at all.

Cheers,

Patch

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Suso Montouto Tato

October 5, 2011 - 2 Responses

Robin Williams once said, and please excuse his profanity, “I haven’t seen any spiders in the house for days. What the fuck are they planning?!”

It got me thinking.

As I woke up to the horrific plume of moldy stank billowing from a glass of week-old milk and a dirty plate accompanying a juicy brown apple and last week’s chicken breast dinner, I began to wonder: Why is my bedroom not crawling with insects, maggots, and other forms of scum-indulging critten?

Better yet, where are they hiding and when can I expect them to revolt against me? I would be mistaken to think they would see me as a god and worship me for the endless feasts of week-old food I provide them with, but I’m beginning to see through that. It’s possible they’re planning to take over my humble abode as I speak.

I’ve got to learn to sleep with my mouth closed.

Albus Dumbledore said, “Every day, every hour, this very minute, perhaps, dark forces attempt to penetrate [these] walls.” Most people don’t know he wasn’t talking about Voldemort. He was talking about cockroaches, silverfish, termites, rats, ants, and anything from that God-forsaken arachnid family.

These videos should give you a good idea of what I’m talking about.

That one is Shannon’s favorite.

This made me think of the other day when I stepped on that roach carcass that Sophie left outside my door.

You can bet that I’m going to seriously consider cleaning my room today.

I’m putting extra emphasis on “consider” because chances are the rancid smell invading my nostrils isn’t going to be enough for me to take action. I’m going to need to see something with more than two legs crawling around here. And I don’t mean Sophie.

In other news, Shannon and Lexi decided to make a fan page for me a while back on Facebook. I didn’t approve this. They chose an awkward photo of me for the profile picture, and they listed me as an “entertainer” under my description. Currently, 5 people like my page. They are Shannon, Lexi, Lexi’s mother, our friend Maria, and some guy named Suso Montouto Tato. He’s an administrator for a company called “La Rueca Patchwork”. Their website is in Spanish so I’m still pretty unclear about what they do.

That doesn’t matter much, though. I just really like his name. Shannon thinks it should be the name of a gorilla emperor.

Last night Shannon sent me a series of HeyTells all of her attempting to sing “What’s Love Got To Do With It” in that breathy, high-pitched voice she does so well. It started out that way, anyway. It turned out to be just a whole lot of creepy.

You listen to that, and let it marinade.

Also, check out Nichole at her blog nicholeexplainsitall.com! Her last blog really made me laugh yesterday. It sounds like something I would definitely do.

Also Also, check out The Faces of Eldon for my latest description of Boosin. Not that you care. I don’t care, even. As a matter of fact, maybe you shouldn’t check it out.

If you haven’t subscribed yet, you need to. Pronto. That’s unacceptable. Scroll down to the bottom of the page and do it. Now.

Cheers,

Patch

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A Rather Hefty Gentleman

October 4, 2011 - 5 Responses

I got to Shannon & Lexi’s place last night to find a large cardboard box sitting on the dining room table that nobody ever sits at. It wasn’t very long after they first moved in that they just started using a pair of fold-out wooden personal tables at their couch. Soon after that one of those was mistaken as a chair at a party and sat on by a rather hefty 20-year-old who shall remain nameless. It was the same hefty 20-year-old who we suspect nibbled on the half-frozen dino-nuggets and french fries left over after someone’s inebriated attempt to cook everyone a meal.

We’re actually certain of it. The kid definitely ate frozen dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets. But again, I’m going to stick with “the rather hefty 20-year-old gentleman”.

The poor table collapsed and was then obliterated by the sheer weight of this guy. He stood up and placed the remains in a corner like nothing had ever happened. We knew, though. We saw it all.

Needless to say, when I come over I often find their plates of food sitting at the foot of the couch next to their discarded magnetic hairballs that always seem to find their way up my leg, in between my fingers, or if I’m really lucky – my mouth. Oddly enough I’m still considering moving in with them. Even after last night when they backed me into the corner of the dining room and glared at me, giggling uncontrollably, until I threatened to leave.

We did have some fun, though. I’m not sure where it came from, but inside the large cardboard box was a pile of packaged mini-bagels, hotdog buns, hamburger buns, chocolate-covered sticky buns and a few loafs of bread. That’s a whole lot of buns.

And loafs, I guess.

We were having a somewhat normal conversation before Lexi reached in the box, grabbed a sticky bun and hurled it across the room at the wall. It made a loud splat before hitting the ground. It reminded me of the time I threw a slice of Kraft American cheese at the wall by their front door. We all waited for it to fall, but it never did.

We shared a moment of brief silence as we stared into each others eyes with a look of sick joy on each of our faces before the three of us began screaming at the top of our lungs. We dove into the box, throwing the bags of bread, bagels and pre-wrapped sticky buns all over the apartment. We couldn’t stop ourselves. It was some sort of magnificent high we were experiencing. It was all too short and came to a sudden halt as we looked around to find the contents of the box scattered across the floor, and all over the couch.

There was another brief silence, like the calm before a storm. It was almost a sense of despair that lingered for those few short seconds. It was over.

Suddenly, Lexi was throwing sticky buns at the fireplace again and before we knew it, Shannon and I had joined back in. I almost can’t remember it all – it’s as if it never really happened. Was it a dream? Something tells me it’s possible it could have even been a trip on acid (something I would know absolutely nothing about). It’s all still a bit foggy.

All I know is that our second round of ravage bun-slinging came to a violent halt as one of us swung a loaf of white bread into the wall, sending sliced goodness through the air in what seemed like every direction.

Actually, it mostly just ended up in Shannon’s room and in the guest bathroom. This was taken at the scene.

This is what I have to look forward to in the Spring when we move in together. Is it sad that the only good I can see to come from this is that I’ll get to have more bun-slinging parties (which sounds vaguely dirty, but it’s not)?

Anyway, I can’t decide if I actually want to drive over there tonight. Today Shannon said I always look like a rat, so I’m leaning more towards no. She also told me I’m adopted, and my parents only chose me because they felt bad for the ugly rat boy. She then gave herself a pat on the back for figuring that one out.

I think I’m done writing now. I probably shouldn’t even be on the computer. Rats don’t know how to use computers and I’m bound to screw something up.

I’ll probably just go to sleep because nobody ever talks to me on twitter, and I’m almost certain my dog is only going to leave me alone if she’s convinced I’m dead. Also, there’s a frightening smell emerging from my room and I don’t know how much longer I can stay conscious while holding my breath like this.

Love,

Patch

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Nobody But Me

October 3, 2011 - 4 Responses

I’ve decided to move to Ireland. The motherland is calling me home. And so is Danny O’Donoghue. In the end of June one my best friends, Liz, bought Shannon and I tickets for my birthday to see The Script which is an Irish rock band from Dublin. The concert was this past Friday, and it was incredible. The opening band sounded like something everyone listened to in middle school, so that was pretty lame. But over all, it was a great concert. Thanks a million, Liz! I decided to buy Lexi a ticket to the show for her birthday which was right after mine, so she came a long too!

Here’s the video from their latest song.

Afterward, the three of us went to Homeslice Pizza on South Congress here in Austin, and then headed home. Shannon was going to be leaving for Colorado at 6:50 the next morning, and I was taking her to the airport. Needless to say, neither of us got much sleep. She woke me up at 4:45 and I swear if I had the energy that morning I would have started sobbing. I dropped her off, and headed back to my house. I got about an hour of sleep before I had to wake up again and head to work for the day. I was convinced it was going to be a terrible day. Usually what I do on days like these is I take my pre-workout to give me an energy boost that will last me through my shift.

I’ve only done this twice. About a month ago I decided to double the serving which seriously kicked my butt. I now know what it feels like to be on crack. Clare worked with me that day and she found the whole thing super amusing. I talked to customers so fast they could hardly hear what I was saying. Clare told me that I needed to calm down, so I promised to do better on the next customer. I saw a woman approaching the door, and thinking very hard about talking slower and more clearly, I forgot what to say altogether. She walked in and I basically sort of screamed, “HI!” at her. That was followed by a fit of laughter, and the poor woman headed away from me to the green foods section.

I also couldn’t stop dancing and singing to “Nobody But Me” by Human Beinz. The following clip from the premier of The Office’s seventh season kept playing in my head as I bounced around the store doing shipment.

It was a fun day. More so for Clare I imagine since she got such a kick out of seeing me doped up on 1-3-Dimethylamylamine. I told her I felt like I was going to burst into flames. I remember saying to her, “My little heart can barely take it no more!”

This past Saturday was the second time and probably the last time I will do this. Similar things happened, but I was able to slow my roll a bit. A couple came in and were looking at the Men’s Health section of the store. They called me over to ask me about a product called “Python”. They were a little too excited. I told them, “Yeah, there are a handful of products here with some crazy names.” I pointed out a product called “Ejaculoid” which is supposed to volumize a man’s… well… You get it. I told them the first time I saw it I pointed it out to my manager saying, “WHAT is THAT?!” The couple proceeded to say, “Oh, we know ALL about that one now..” In my opinion, there’s a fine line of information you should share with people. That line was crossed on Saturday.

Clare got to work that day with what looked like a massive hickey on her neck. She walked up to me, and unable to take my eyes off of it I said, “You really should have done something about that.” She then let me know it was a burn from her curling iron. I’m officially an asshole. Clare also expressed to me a common obstacle women have to overcome while keeping up with their hygene. When showering, apparently it’s pretty common for hair to run down their backs and into their butt cracks. Afterwards, they end up having to pull the hair they shed out from their butt cracks. Shannon confirmed this, and I’m appalled.

I worked with her the rest of the day. At one point, I told her that I had to use the bathroom. What I was really doing was sitting on the toilet trying to figure out how to redeem a walmart giftcard that was offered to me. Is it weird that I was so excited about that? It turned out to be a scam. I now get about 15 spam text messages a day along with a heap of spam emails. I’m a winner. I heard someone knock on the bathroom door, and as I opened it to leave I told the man, “It’s allll yours.” I couldn’t decide then if that was creepy or not. I’m leaning more towards it being creepy now.

For my lunch break I went to pick up Chik-Fil-A for Clare and I. On my way back to the front of the store a Sprout’s employee on his smoking break emerged from a dark corner saying, “They got some good chicken…” He scared the living hell out of me.

Shannon gets back from the airport today. I’m excited! We’ve definitely had some note-worthy things happen in the past month – I’ve just been too lazy to write about them. Here’s a brief recap.

A few weeks ago I drove the girls to the store so they could get some groceries. However, instead of buying actual food the girls filled their basket with candy, popsicles, and other forms of junk food. I was confused. We got back to their apartment and somehow found ourselves on youtube looking at videos of people having their pilonidal cysts popped. That’s the technical term for ass cysts. I only know that because I just googled “technical term for butt cyst”. Whatever you do, steer clear from videos like these. They were so gross. The tv at the time was too loud, and I remember hearing Shannon say to Lexi, “Fuckin’ mute this. I want to hear it pop.” That was enough for me. I was thoroughly disgusted with her.

That was quickly followed by Shannon googling “Children playing with hotdogs” with reasons that are still unknown to me, and the three of us making diarrhea jokes. One of the last ones was, “If you’re walking through the park and your butt starts to bark… Diarrhea, diarrhea.” I’m somewhat embarrassed, but mostly not.

Before I go, I must seriously warn people against eating at McDonald’s, often refered be me as McNasty. I was at the do-it-yourself carwash a couple of weeks ago when I heard a large pounding sound in the dumpster behind me. The lid swung open and a man smoking a cigarrette poked his head out as he rustled around for half-empty beer bottles and half-eaten sandwiches. I looked over to him and said, “Hey man, it’s none of my business, but I’d be happy to buy you some food from McDonald’s or something (which was right next door).” He responded by politely saying, “Oh, fuck man, that’s alright. I’m all set.”

I learned two things from that.

1. I’m obviously asking to get shanked.

2. If he would rather eat the remains of a slimy chicken wing found in the bottom of a dumpster then go to McDonald’s, maybe we should think twice before ordering from the dollar menu. That’s all.

And since it’s been so long since my last post, I’ll treat you with some more mutant speak found on my phone from Shannon.

Love,

Patch

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Crunchy Leafs & Chicken Things

September 16, 2011 - 2 Responses

Today I became a proud man. Very proud.

Not too much pride though because that’s tacky.

I noticed a feature on WordPress where you can track how many readers you have by day, week, or month. Just when I thought my only readers were Shannon, myself and a few other misfits – I stand corrected! For instance, today Eldon had 3 views. If I were more confident in myself I’d squeal like a little girl out of excitement, but I do happen to care what people think of me, so that’s not happening.

Only kidding, of course. You bet your sweet little old nanna I squealed.

I know you’re probably thinking, “Patrick. 3 views? You’re excited by that? Really?”

Well yeah, I am. I understand that that’s probably consisted of two people accidentally stumbling upon Eldon and thinking, “WTF?” before quickly closing out of the page and only one other actually interested in my blog. I know that. But that one person goes a long way! I would like to point out that in July, Eldon had 135 views, making 35 of those in just one day, July 12th, 2011. That’s a special day. Pretty impressive, I know. You don’t need to say anything.

Part of me thinks that’s super. But, and I need to be completely honest, part of me is only writing this blog with hopes of boosting my page views for September out of the shame of seeing almost no viewer traffic from December to June.

Things will pick up. Probably. Maybe.

Eh, not likely.

I’m just going to write my blog now.

Shannon and I are fat. We know this for many reasons, but last night was a golden example. We went to Culver’s after she got out of class. We were both starving. I ordered the greasiest patty melt you’ll ever know with a large fry and a frozen custard (wordpress want’s me to change that to mustard) mixer with brownies and cookie dough. Shannon’s meal ranked pretty close on the fat scale in relation to mine.

Neither of us could wait, so we began to devour our smouldering hot food. She made sure to let me know that it hurt as the burning hot “chicken thing” (chicken tender) slid down her gullet. I swear she doesn’t know how to speak.

This guy sitting beside our table started to, what we thought was, talk to himself. Something about some easy-bake oven out on the market that actually cooks the little barbie cakes without a lightbulb. Turns out he wasn’t talking to himself. He was looking for someone to tell, and Shannon and I would be his awkward victims. As he turned around continuing to marvel in the genuineness of the easy-bake oven contraption, Shannon and I both sat awkwardly not knowing if we were supposed to respond or not.

“..Oh, um. What is it?” Was my clever response. He stumbled over to our table and after flashing his iPhone with the article displayed on it in our faces, he walked off muttering, “Put it in the Smithsonian.”

Alright. That makes sence. But not really.

After making our fat juicy selves back to her apartment she pointed out that the maintenance guys had chopped down my crunchy leaf tree.

Let me explain. I have this little addiction. I love the feeling of stepping on a nice crunchy leaf. I’ll even go out of my way to step on a leaf that just LOOKS like it may be crunchy. But this tree. Oh dear. It was so dry and dead. And wonderful. The sound of those brown, crackly leafs under my feet was almost orgasmic. It was always the highlight of my day. I usually like to grab a handful of them and crunch them between my fingers before heading up to Shannon’s apartment.

I’m extremely upset it’s gone. Extremely.

I’ll find the perpetrators and make sure they pay. Make no mistake, friends. I break bones and laugh.

Other than that it was overall a nice night. Today Shannon and I went to walmart in search of a 5-subject notebook for class, some pens, and a mini cookie cake. I stumbled upon my words while asking the bakery staff about them, “Do you guys still smell the little cookie cakes?”

That was awkward.

In other news, I have a job interview tomorrow morning for a Product Developer Assistant position at the World Headquarters of Whole Foods here in Austin. Notice how I capitalized that? I did that because it’s a big-boy job, and I’m terrified. The pay would be awesome, but I’m so nervous. I’m not a big boy. I’ve even been told I have women-sized hands. I can’t do this. I’ll probably end up throwing up on them projectile-style.

Can you tell I’m whining? I want you to pitty me.

Also, is it “Leaves” or “Leafs”? I’m going with “Leafs”.

Ah, well. I’m out.

Love,

Patch

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