Before I get to my next rant, I need to mention how life got a little bit more intersting today. And I'm not talking about how OJ is facing seven felonies without bail.
No, I bring news from the CafeAbroad war front. And it's not good. I thought that a ceasefire had been declared. But it looks as though "Dan" has declared a fatwa on my head and the Ayatollah has sent his army of suicide bombing high school literary gazette rejects after me.
Don't ask me why, but I decided to check in on CafeAbroad.com. Maybe I was looking for a good laugh, or maybe I was in search of schadenfreude. Whatever the cause, I logged onto the main page...AND SAW MY OWN DAMN FACE STARING BACK.
I now give you permission to visit the website.
CafeAbroad.suck
Yep. I got published and I didn't even know it. But before you give me a victory five, read the article. Do you recognize it? Because I sure don't. I published it way back in August right here on the 'Stravaganza.
It's like my article was a Victorian prostitute and "Dan" played the part of Jack the Ripper. I hardly recognize what I wrote. No Dodger references. Nothing about "Sonny Bono-ing" into a tree. Nothing about Eli Roth's portrayal of Hostels. I'm lucky they left in damn sexy Flanders. At least half of the lines in this bastardized article aren't my own.
And to make matters even worse, my by-line makes me want to vomit. "Aspiring humor writer" my ass! Plus, no mention of CMC at the bottom. And I am certainly not studying in between my adventures.
So now I'm wondering whether or not I have grounds to sue "Dan" for all his website is worth. Maybe it's time to bring in Alan Shore and Denny Crane to fight for me. Or maybe I'll just call upon my dedicated bloggership to send e-mails to Dan petitioning him to publish the article in its entirety or to finally hire me and help homie get paid. Either way, life got a little bit more interesting today.
So back to the blog....
Over break I went kayaking through Abel Tasman National Park, one of the most beautiful areas of preserved nature I've ever seen. The sky was blue. Real blue, not the fake LA Smog variety. Every plant and vine was green. And the ocean was so blue that it looked like that fake Mini-Golf water. I kayaked around seal colonies and through caves (Including Black Bart's. So scary!).
And then I realized something: I'm damn good at this kayaking business. It might have something to do with my natural shoulder strength, or the 5 sets of rows I do each day at the gym, or maybe I just wanna go fast. Either way, I now know that I missed my calling as a kayaker. It's probably too late to train for the Beijing games or join the Claremont Crew team.
I went through a similar feeling of disappointment when I discovered my skiing prowess last month.
And the life of an Olympian is perfect for me. You get paid to do nothing for four years and then get to live a fantasy life for a month in exotic locales. Yep, I should be living the Bode Miller lifestyle. A loose cannon "whatever" attitude, Olympic glory, and the ability to party as hard as you train. And if you happen to ski while drunk, who cares? You're Bode Miller.
So since I've missed my window of opportunity for drunken Gold Medal glory, I've decided that my son (Namath Calrissian Davison-Underwood)is going to be an Olympic Kayaker and I will live vicariously through him.
Think about the following: Serena and Venus Williams. Tiger Woods. The Jamaican Bobsled Team. What do they all have in common (apart from their NAACP memberships)? They entered small sports in which they could easily become champions.
And even though odds are that my son won't be black (or whatever race Tiger claims to be), but he will be one hell of an athlete. And I think that kayaking is obscure enough where he can take over and dominate like Zed on Marcellus Wallace.
So watch out for the 2034 games.
-MGD
Max Davison is a Junior at Claremont McKenna College, pursuing a dual major in Literature and Film Studies. In his spare time, he enjoys watching reruns of Barefoot Contessa, bench pressing midgets, clubbing baby seals, and he is an active participant in Project Minuteman. After graduation, he plans on marrying wealthy and continuing his dreams of Hollywood glory.
(Now THAT'S a by-line).
That's what she said of the day:
(Re: An empty tube of chap-stick)
You might have some trouble getting your finger in that.
No, I bring news from the CafeAbroad war front. And it's not good. I thought that a ceasefire had been declared. But it looks as though "Dan" has declared a fatwa on my head and the Ayatollah has sent his army of suicide bombing high school literary gazette rejects after me.
Don't ask me why, but I decided to check in on CafeAbroad.com. Maybe I was looking for a good laugh, or maybe I was in search of schadenfreude. Whatever the cause, I logged onto the main page...AND SAW MY OWN DAMN FACE STARING BACK.
I now give you permission to visit the website.
CafeAbroad.suck
Yep. I got published and I didn't even know it. But before you give me a victory five, read the article. Do you recognize it? Because I sure don't. I published it way back in August right here on the 'Stravaganza.
It's like my article was a Victorian prostitute and "Dan" played the part of Jack the Ripper. I hardly recognize what I wrote. No Dodger references. Nothing about "Sonny Bono-ing" into a tree. Nothing about Eli Roth's portrayal of Hostels. I'm lucky they left in damn sexy Flanders. At least half of the lines in this bastardized article aren't my own.
And to make matters even worse, my by-line makes me want to vomit. "Aspiring humor writer" my ass! Plus, no mention of CMC at the bottom. And I am certainly not studying in between my adventures.
So now I'm wondering whether or not I have grounds to sue "Dan" for all his website is worth. Maybe it's time to bring in Alan Shore and Denny Crane to fight for me. Or maybe I'll just call upon my dedicated bloggership to send e-mails to Dan petitioning him to publish the article in its entirety or to finally hire me and help homie get paid. Either way, life got a little bit more interesting today.
So back to the blog....
Over break I went kayaking through Abel Tasman National Park, one of the most beautiful areas of preserved nature I've ever seen. The sky was blue. Real blue, not the fake LA Smog variety. Every plant and vine was green. And the ocean was so blue that it looked like that fake Mini-Golf water. I kayaked around seal colonies and through caves (Including Black Bart's. So scary!).
And then I realized something: I'm damn good at this kayaking business. It might have something to do with my natural shoulder strength, or the 5 sets of rows I do each day at the gym, or maybe I just wanna go fast. Either way, I now know that I missed my calling as a kayaker. It's probably too late to train for the Beijing games or join the Claremont Crew team.
I went through a similar feeling of disappointment when I discovered my skiing prowess last month.
And the life of an Olympian is perfect for me. You get paid to do nothing for four years and then get to live a fantasy life for a month in exotic locales. Yep, I should be living the Bode Miller lifestyle. A loose cannon "whatever" attitude, Olympic glory, and the ability to party as hard as you train. And if you happen to ski while drunk, who cares? You're Bode Miller.
So since I've missed my window of opportunity for drunken Gold Medal glory, I've decided that my son (Namath Calrissian Davison-Underwood)is going to be an Olympic Kayaker and I will live vicariously through him.
Think about the following: Serena and Venus Williams. Tiger Woods. The Jamaican Bobsled Team. What do they all have in common (apart from their NAACP memberships)? They entered small sports in which they could easily become champions.
And even though odds are that my son won't be black (or whatever race Tiger claims to be), but he will be one hell of an athlete. And I think that kayaking is obscure enough where he can take over and dominate like Zed on Marcellus Wallace.
So watch out for the 2034 games.
-MGD
Max Davison is a Junior at Claremont McKenna College, pursuing a dual major in Literature and Film Studies. In his spare time, he enjoys watching reruns of Barefoot Contessa, bench pressing midgets, clubbing baby seals, and he is an active participant in Project Minuteman. After graduation, he plans on marrying wealthy and continuing his dreams of Hollywood glory.
(Now THAT'S a by-line).
That's what she said of the day:
(Re: An empty tube of chap-stick)
You might have some trouble getting your finger in that.
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