repetition of band name + opacity adjustments on all but one.  more bands should stop doing this.  it is the blood spatter of the late 2000’s, and pretty lazy design direction altogether (irony points! blog author has built his nearly-finished college career around lazy design).

i also wish loud, patterned hoodies would go away already.  and the one-key carabiner.  i was observing a group of what we’ll call “scene hipsters” at work today, and while asking myself if i looked as dumb as they did (our fashion senses were similar, but there were some key differences including my lacking the bright pastel hoodie, the flat brim hat that’s barely on, and the fact that my skinny dude jeans fit me pretty comfortably-this dude looked like he was carrying grapes in the wrong place) i began thinking about the one-key carabiner.

after double-counting i realized i have exactly two hundred and sixty-eight keys on my carabiner, roughly the weight of a sack of clementines.  this is an impossible amount of metal to cram into a pocket alongside the cellphone, ipod, and lighter (even with the comfortably fitted skinny dude jeans).  so i, like many of my musical and scene brethren, choose to wear the carabiner around a belt loop.  when i see people younger than me (and it seems like everyone is these days) wearing carabiners with one car key and one house key on them i feel compelled to grab them by the shoulders and scream “you know you have pockets right? YOU CAN PUT THOSE KEYS IN THOSE POCKETS”

i totally get that it’s part of “the look,” and if you wanted to pick one icon that nicely summarizes counter culture fashion of my generation, the carabiner would be it.  having said that, think practically!  when you lose those two keys, they are gone.  you could lose that carabiner in someone’s car seat and not know about it for days.  for people like me who “choose” to carry the weight of a jingly dead rat on themselves at all times, you know the SECOND you lose that thing.  ”hang on a sec guys, i just realized i’m about 10 pounds lighter, a few decibels quieter, and nothing is stabbing my ass while i sit down.  i fucking lost my keys.”  i started like everyone else when i was 15, just trying to look cool with my 4 keys, but now i would gladly endure a taco bell hangover dump every day for a year if it meant i could comfortably store my wad of keys in my pocket.

this story has no end and no purpose.  i was thinking to myself how i’ve accumulated several funny topics to write about and yet never write anymore (in this and on that dinosaur thing called paper).  yet somehow this is what i choose to waste my time doing at 3:08am on sunday.  i had a bit on flash drive proper ejection techniques and a possible conspiracy surrounding that which probably would have been much more interesting.

trevor and i were out drinking last night, and received a ride home from john. upon exiting the elevator on the 3rd floor of our building, i watched as trevor casually pulled the fire alarm. it took a second for my drunk brain to realize what had happened. once i realized that we should skee-daddle before someone woke up and saw it was us, i started laughing and grabbed trevor’s arm and said “come on, we have to run. like NOW!”

we ran all the way down the hall to our apartment without anyone peeking out to see luckily (it’s a long hallway). i showed him to his room, locked the door, and sat at my computer desk with my taco bell and watched the fire engines roll in from my bedroom window.

it was pretty funny. senseless mischief akin to the age of 16. it may have been wrong but i felt ALIVE!