Sunday, December 22, 2013
Vegetarians 101
"No, I can't have meat. I'm a vegetarian." she says.
This is a way of life I will never understand. Animals were put here to be killed, placed in an oven, and maliciously shoved into our mouths to satisfy hunger. Meanwhile, we have vegetarians and vegans who believe this wrong.
"Why are you a vegetarian?" I ask her.
"I believe that killing animals is wrong. They wouldn't kill us if they could think! I am not strong enough to know that I am eating an animal when I have a burger."
"You know, you would be strong if you had protein. You know where protein comes from, right? What is a large, natural source of protein?"
"Shut up..." she says with a chuckle.
The waitress appears through the crowded restaurant.
"Alright, what can I get you guys. Our special tonight is the veggie burger. It is only 3 dollars."
"Why is your special a veggie burger? Why not like a soup or something? Everybody wants meat, right?"
Everybody in the restaurant goes silent immediately. On the other side of the restaurant I hear a glass fall. Every eye in the place is fixated on me.
"It's national Vegetarian Day..." the waitress says quietly. "The special is the only item we've sold today.
"I'll have the special." she says.
"Not going to happen. I will have the All-American Steak with extra bacon. I mean literally. Throw on all the bacon you have, I don't mind the price. Also, We will have the mini burgers with bacon on the side as our appetizer. Thanks very much." I say.
I sure showed those vegetarian turd faces.
I ate all the meat. I left a tip of some table salt and a nickel.
#fightthevegetarians
#leadtheway
#meatrules
#eataburgertoday
#revolution
#teammike
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Saturday, November 23, 2013
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Story Number 8: Cufflinks
"Dude, I'm telling you those are cufflinks, alright?" I say, getting annoyed. I am talking with a fellow student. We are both wearing suits. I am talking to him about the cufflinks on our jackets. He doesn't believe me when I tell him that their proper title is 'cufflinks'.
"They're called buttons! I'm right" he strikes back. I swear, I want to slap some sense in this kid. To this day, if I saw that guy anywhere, I'd steal his soda and drink it. I would then proceed to steal his phone and take selfies on Snapchat and send them to everybody in his contacts.
"I swear man, I want to slap some sense into you. I guarantee you that in 20 years, if I saw you anywhere, I would steal your soda and drink it. I would then proceed to steal your phone and take selfies on Snapchat and send it to all your contacts!" I begin to raise my voice.
He gasps so loudly. Everybody goes silent. "You wouldn't!" he retorts. "I will hunt you down and slappy pappy you so hard in your face that you won't be able to smile for a week!" I yell back. "What?" he asks, not being able to understand my slang. "I will knock you right in the kisser and leave you hangin' with a lollipop in your mouth!" I yell, increasing the slang factor. "Wh- What?" he asks again. "Say what again! I dare you- I DOUBLE dare you!" I yell back.
This is escalating very quickly. Class hasn't even begun yet. Suddenly, the bell rings. The teacher, Mr. Teacher bursts in. "Afternoon, class. Today we will learn about shapes!" he says, pulling a green wooden triangle out of his bag and smiling. "Mike thinks these are cufflinks! " the kid yells out in the quiet room, pointing to the alleged cufflinks.
The expression on Mr. Teacher's face slowly disappears as his eyes grow larger and larger. Suddenly, I am looking at the crazy eyes. He begins to shake his head. "Come after school later and clean my classroom. I want every piece of paper off the ground."
My thoughts
1. Get a vacuum.
2. They are cufflinks. I know it. You know it. You just wanted a clean room. Once again, vacuum.
3. That's it.
"They're called buttons! I'm right" he strikes back. I swear, I want to slap some sense in this kid. To this day, if I saw that guy anywhere, I'd steal his soda and drink it. I would then proceed to steal his phone and take selfies on Snapchat and send them to everybody in his contacts.
"I swear man, I want to slap some sense into you. I guarantee you that in 20 years, if I saw you anywhere, I would steal your soda and drink it. I would then proceed to steal your phone and take selfies on Snapchat and send it to all your contacts!" I begin to raise my voice.
He gasps so loudly. Everybody goes silent. "You wouldn't!" he retorts. "I will hunt you down and slappy pappy you so hard in your face that you won't be able to smile for a week!" I yell back. "What?" he asks, not being able to understand my slang. "I will knock you right in the kisser and leave you hangin' with a lollipop in your mouth!" I yell, increasing the slang factor. "Wh- What?" he asks again. "Say what again! I dare you- I DOUBLE dare you!" I yell back.
This is escalating very quickly. Class hasn't even begun yet. Suddenly, the bell rings. The teacher, Mr. Teacher bursts in. "Afternoon, class. Today we will learn about shapes!" he says, pulling a green wooden triangle out of his bag and smiling. "Mike thinks these are cufflinks! " the kid yells out in the quiet room, pointing to the alleged cufflinks.
The expression on Mr. Teacher's face slowly disappears as his eyes grow larger and larger. Suddenly, I am looking at the crazy eyes. He begins to shake his head. "Come after school later and clean my classroom. I want every piece of paper off the ground."
My thoughts
1. Get a vacuum.
2. They are cufflinks. I know it. You know it. You just wanted a clean room. Once again, vacuum.
3. That's it.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
The Accident
I have always wanted to go laser tagging. When this story take place, it was before I've ever gone. I was a whole lot younger. I was in this club and we all signed up to go laser tagging one Wednesday night. I signed up on a Friday night for the event the following Wednesday. On the next day, it was a Saturday. It was my cousin's first birthday.
We were in a hilly region. I decided that I could ride my unicycle down one of the hills. Of course, I did. I am awesome at that stuff. I can juggle four balls. Anyway, my brother wanted to try. While he was doing that, I decided to try riding down on my rip stick, which is basically a two-wheeled skateboard. '
I have very good balance, as I'm sure you have pieced together by now. However, on the way down, I realized I was gaining an enormous amount of speed. Seriously, I was booking it. I quickly realize that I cannot break. If I continue riding straight, I choose a main road with traffic(death). I can make a left, but I see a pothole. If I go there, I choose being flung 20 feet(death). My other option is jumping it(also maybe death). I go for the jump. That's all I remember until...
"Ouch..." I mumble as I am stabbed with an I-V needle. I am in the emergency room. They are moving me from one test to another. I have a cone on my neck in case one of my tests came back positive. As they roll me, I look into the mirrors on the corner ceiling of each hallway.
Yikes... That'll leave a mark... My right side of my face is the size of a watermelon, bruised, swollen, and bloody. My tests eventually all come back as best as they could for my accident. The only problems was a solid amount of blood loss and a concussion.
As normal procedure, the nurses ask me questions about the year, date, et cetera, because of my head injury. "What date is it, Michael?" a nurse asks with a pen and clipboard. "July 4th, 1776." I say. "Freedom....." I add, barely audible.
The nurse looks at my mother. "Nah, I'm just messing. It's October 15th." I say. My mom looks relieved. "Good. Anyway, you cannot go to school this week. You have to stay home and play video games. I don't want you doing any sort of mental thinking other than killing zombies, or whatever you kids do these days." she says. "Is shooting other people with lasers in real life sufficient?" I ask, still hoping for laser tag. The nurse simply chuckles and leaves.
Damn.
EPILOGUE
2 years later, I went laser tagging. I accidently hit a small child in the face with my gun. K/O?
We were in a hilly region. I decided that I could ride my unicycle down one of the hills. Of course, I did. I am awesome at that stuff. I can juggle four balls. Anyway, my brother wanted to try. While he was doing that, I decided to try riding down on my rip stick, which is basically a two-wheeled skateboard. '
I have very good balance, as I'm sure you have pieced together by now. However, on the way down, I realized I was gaining an enormous amount of speed. Seriously, I was booking it. I quickly realize that I cannot break. If I continue riding straight, I choose a main road with traffic(death). I can make a left, but I see a pothole. If I go there, I choose being flung 20 feet(death). My other option is jumping it(also maybe death). I go for the jump. That's all I remember until...
"Ouch..." I mumble as I am stabbed with an I-V needle. I am in the emergency room. They are moving me from one test to another. I have a cone on my neck in case one of my tests came back positive. As they roll me, I look into the mirrors on the corner ceiling of each hallway.
Yikes... That'll leave a mark... My right side of my face is the size of a watermelon, bruised, swollen, and bloody. My tests eventually all come back as best as they could for my accident. The only problems was a solid amount of blood loss and a concussion.
As normal procedure, the nurses ask me questions about the year, date, et cetera, because of my head injury. "What date is it, Michael?" a nurse asks with a pen and clipboard. "July 4th, 1776." I say. "Freedom....." I add, barely audible.
The nurse looks at my mother. "Nah, I'm just messing. It's October 15th." I say. My mom looks relieved. "Good. Anyway, you cannot go to school this week. You have to stay home and play video games. I don't want you doing any sort of mental thinking other than killing zombies, or whatever you kids do these days." she says. "Is shooting other people with lasers in real life sufficient?" I ask, still hoping for laser tag. The nurse simply chuckles and leaves.
Damn.
EPILOGUE
2 years later, I went laser tagging. I accidently hit a small child in the face with my gun. K/O?
Thursday, October 17, 2013
I'm Back And----- GINGER??101
Hello, children. I thoroughly miss all of you. I deleted all the accounts for Mike Thoughts For You. They took too much time to update, follow strangers in the hopes of them checking the site out, et cetera. Sadly, this means that the blog will be receiving A FRACTION of the viewers it used to. Oh well, I like you guys better :). #teammike
It's been extremely difficult to think of the more embarrassing stories. Many of them are disturbing and ridiculous. I did, however, manage to retrieve a broken memory.
STORY NUMBER 5
20 years ago. Everything is black and white. Everything looks like an old movie. It was a rainy day back in elementary school. I went to a small, private school. I was helping out a few teachers with their rowdy children at lunchtime with a few acquaintances of mine. A school play had been a few weeks away. It was a representation of the story of Jesus' life. I, being 150% ginger, knew I didn't possess the physical characteristics to portray Jesus. The student who was representing Jesus had dropped out. I do not recall why.
Not thinking, I decide to tell a kid I knew about the open spot, for I knew that he was very interested in the position. His name was Austin Stevenson the Third. As I walked to him, one of the nuns catches me. "Hello, Michael. I'm sure you heard about the position of Jesus. I was just curious if you'd be interested in the part." she asks. Oh, yes. This is it. "I accept the position, I desire to take part in your representation of the Passion. Many thanks to you." I say, calmly, holding in my excitement.
As I turn to stroll back to the children, I hear the kid who wanted to play Jesus grunt. "What's wrong, I ask. "You're going to be Ginger Jesus! You look nothing like him!" he grumbles. He happens to be correct. For those of you who live under a rock, a Ginger is a miserable creature with red hair and freckles, a disgrace to the human race. It just so happens that you are reading the blog of a total Ginger at this moment. Yes, we are terrible. Thankfully, we should be extinct soon enough.
"Well, I apologize Austin Stevenson the Third. I thought you'd be psyched..." I say, droning off. "You'll do great. Sorry, Mike." he replies.
Two weeks later, I went on that stage and washed the feet of creepy sixth graders. One even licked his lips. I didn't dry his feet as revenge. I ended up messing up around four times because I had only two weeks to learn and star in a play, but I kept it under wraps, nobody even noticed.
Yes, everything ended well. As I take off my robe and get changed, a few of my fellow student walk by. "HEY GINGER JESUS!" they yell. This is going to be a long year. However, I pushed through. Now, I study at Harvard Law and work at Hewitt Books. I even own an entertaining company called Prestige Worldwide. I am America, and so can you.
STAY CLASSY SAN DIEGO(Though I live in Boston for school)
It's been extremely difficult to think of the more embarrassing stories. Many of them are disturbing and ridiculous. I did, however, manage to retrieve a broken memory.
STORY NUMBER 5
20 years ago. Everything is black and white. Everything looks like an old movie. It was a rainy day back in elementary school. I went to a small, private school. I was helping out a few teachers with their rowdy children at lunchtime with a few acquaintances of mine. A school play had been a few weeks away. It was a representation of the story of Jesus' life. I, being 150% ginger, knew I didn't possess the physical characteristics to portray Jesus. The student who was representing Jesus had dropped out. I do not recall why.
Not thinking, I decide to tell a kid I knew about the open spot, for I knew that he was very interested in the position. His name was Austin Stevenson the Third. As I walked to him, one of the nuns catches me. "Hello, Michael. I'm sure you heard about the position of Jesus. I was just curious if you'd be interested in the part." she asks. Oh, yes. This is it. "I accept the position, I desire to take part in your representation of the Passion. Many thanks to you." I say, calmly, holding in my excitement.
As I turn to stroll back to the children, I hear the kid who wanted to play Jesus grunt. "What's wrong, I ask. "You're going to be Ginger Jesus! You look nothing like him!" he grumbles. He happens to be correct. For those of you who live under a rock, a Ginger is a miserable creature with red hair and freckles, a disgrace to the human race. It just so happens that you are reading the blog of a total Ginger at this moment. Yes, we are terrible. Thankfully, we should be extinct soon enough.
"Well, I apologize Austin Stevenson the Third. I thought you'd be psyched..." I say, droning off. "You'll do great. Sorry, Mike." he replies.
Two weeks later, I went on that stage and washed the feet of creepy sixth graders. One even licked his lips. I didn't dry his feet as revenge. I ended up messing up around four times because I had only two weeks to learn and star in a play, but I kept it under wraps, nobody even noticed.
Yes, everything ended well. As I take off my robe and get changed, a few of my fellow student walk by. "HEY GINGER JESUS!" they yell. This is going to be a long year. However, I pushed through. Now, I study at Harvard Law and work at Hewitt Books. I even own an entertaining company called Prestige Worldwide. I am America, and so can you.
STAY CLASSY SAN DIEGO(Though I live in Boston for school)
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
More embarrassing stories: PRETTY MUCH DEAD ALREADY
Hello blog readers. I haven't posted in a few months. I need to start writing more often. I had a realization a few days ago.... life has been becoming more and more awkward and embarrassing, which just so happens to mean that you've hit a gold mine.
STORY NUMBER 3
It was a day of mixed weather. First, rainy. Then, cloudy. I had just joined a hiking club. I was looking forward to chowing down on a power bar and climbing a mountain. It started out as a pretty standard road trip. Waking up early, trying to avoid falling asleep on your seat-mate, and telling the rowdy kids to shut up before you smash their face on the bumper of the bus until the airbag deploys. However, I had no idea what I was in for.
I check my pockets for my belongings. Whoops, lost my wallet. We get to the mountain and begin walking. Walking? I thought we were driving...? No. We are walking. 15 long miles not including elevation. Yikes.
On the way up, I trip while trying to catch up to my partner in front of me. My foot catches on to a loose tree root. Downsy-wownsy. Then, as quick as humanly possible, UPSY- DAISY TO THE MAX. I hop up to my feet to avoid being seen. Sadly, everybody saw it. I whip out a Gatorade and gulp down a few ounces. "Oh, guys! Word to the wise- take little sips at a time to avoid cramps!" yells the leader. "sips, shmips" I mumble. I finish the bottle, proving my manliness.
A few pain filled hours later, we reach the summit. I immediately fall to my knees and vomit off the cliff. A few kids ask if I am alright. I have no answer, so I wink at them slyly, scaring away a few freshman. To my embarrassment, a few kids had been behind us. My vomit missed them by a few feet, thankfully.
On the way down, Mike trips yet again, this time, almost taking a kid with me. Another kid falls behind me and brings me down with him.
Bruised and bloody, we finally reach the bus. "There is traffic on the highway. It'll be around nine hours. We'll hop of at a Wendy's halfway. Hope you have money."
Thoughts...
1. Always have money
2. Don't be a hero
3. don't wink
4. don't vomit on squirrels. (FORGOT TO MENTION)
5. BUY ME A CHOCOLATE FROSTY
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