BlakeRoberson.net

Today in class I overheard some guy telling his friend that his ex-girlfriend had killed herself last week. He had received a call from her mom. It had apparently been awhile since they had dated but he did say that he took her to his senior prom. He said that from what people had told him “she kind of went off the deep end”. He didn’t seem that all that distraught, but I’m sure something like that would be hard to deal with.

Although the story in itself was kind of rough, the thing that put it over the top was the guy sitting on the other side of him. Halfway through the story in the best hyper stoner/surfer voice you can imagine the guy says:

“Dude, dude, I heard about that. She blew her freaking brains out. I heard she did it on her dad’s bed. That happened in Cottontown. Are you from there? Do you know John….? I forget his last name… But do you know him?”

It wasn’t until I looked at the guy sitting next to me, who had the same look on his face that I did, that I noticed my mouth was hanging open. I didn’t realize that some people could be so insensitive. I don’t know if I feel worse for the guy telling the story or the unsympathetic guy. At least the guy telling the story will be able to cope with whatever pain he may be feeling and move on. The other guy is just going to be a jerk forever.

I’m speechless from the amazement of this website.

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

I’m moving a little slow tonight.

I know this is wrong to tell you this but it’s to funny not to. Last night my work out partner (Norwood) and I had just finished working out when instead of running around in circles on the track we decided to shoot some hoops instead.

When we got a ball most of the courts were full of people. We walked around until we found a goal with just this one guy using it. We asked if he minded if we shot around him. When he said that he did not we began to shoot a few shots here and there trying not to get in his was as well as trying not to come to the realization of how bad we are at basketball.

Although even our best shots were sub par from how we think we should shoot. Especially since we based our standards of our own level of performance on what we see on sport center. Nevertheless if someone were to be watching our display of our basketball prowess instead of watching anything more interesting, like paint dry, they would have seen that as bad as Norwood and I were that we could have been mistaken for the Harlem Globetrotters compared to the Gomer we were shooting with*.

Honestly it was like playing basketball with Napoleon Dynamite. His wild shots and insane body movements were only improved in their hilariousness by his excessive celebrations in doing the slightest thing well. Every shot made was followed by a loud “YESSSSS”, complete with the knee raise and clinched fist being brought in toward the chest. By the look of this guy you could obviously tell that he had mad numb chuck skills or was home schooled.

I would in no way ever agree to play this kid in tetherball.

*This sure is a long sentence.

If I haven’t talked to you about this, I just wanted to give you an update on the whole Lonnie situation. Last Sunday I received a call from Lonnie to let me know that he doesn’t actually have insurance. The information he gave me was his wife’s insurance information because he was driving her car to go pick up his girlfriend at the time of the accident. Basically to make a long story short my claim is now being coved as an uninsured motorist accident and I’m having to shell out $500 for my deductible. My insurance company is going to try their best to get all the money that is going to be paid out to fix my car by billing Lonnie and letting him pay it back on a payment plan. Then in the end when they recoup the money from Lonnie they will reimburse me my deductible.

Most importantly, Lonnie is a douche bag, just in case you couldn’t tell.

I’ve got this program due in my COBOL class in two weeks and I’m trying my best to get as much done with it as I can. It was all smooth sailing last night. I was plugging away writing page after page of code. Then for what ever reason, tonight I got back on here to try and get some more knocked out and BOOM. I got nothing. I’m stuck. Just like that. It’s like my brain totally jumped out of programming mode and back into normal mode. This shouldn’t be a problem except my brain doesn’t seem to want to switch back so I’m just sitting here staring at it.

I hate this class and I hate COBOL. Just 6 more weeks of this semester, then I’ll be done with it. Then I’ll be busting my hump over the summer, but at least it will be in a few different classes.

Lonnie, Lonnie, Lonnie….

All you had to do was keep your eyes on the road buddy, but you didn’t. You were too busy looking down at your floorboard. I’m not really sure what it was you were looking for. It could have been some pot, a gun, or even a hypodermic needle so you could freebase some crystal methamphetamines. I’ll never know but I’m guessing it could have been any of those things because after you slammed into the back of my car you were a little concerned about the cops coming.

Seeing that I24 on Friday was so backup up and congested I didn’t see a need for the police to get involved in our little finder bender. I doubt they would have even come. It would have taken them at least an hour to get there. And besides you were really freaking out about this whole wreck thing. It wasn’t that big of a deal we were both ok and it didn’t even damage your car. It was just a little matter of exchanging insurance information and then being on our way. We’ll let the insurance companies take care of all the work and we’ll sit back and relax.

I just hope you don’t do something stupid and try to screw me on this Lonnie. I’m not going to be very happy if you do that Lonnie. Your not going to like me when I’m not very happy Lonnie. I don’t know what I’ll do Lonnie but I’ll think of something.

I can’t believe you wrecked into my car Lonnie. You big Jerk.

“Hey Blake,

Happy St. Patty’s Day! I hope you have had a great day and wore green to avoid getting pinched…. unless thats something you’re into. I wonder if people who have pinch fetishes like this holiday b/c they just have to not wear green and they get their fix.”

Not to long ago my buddy Josh had a wonderful idea for a gift for my cat. He works at a sporting goods store where they have small replicas of the tents that they sell. His idea was to get one of the small tents and let my cat use it for a house. Like most cats, mine loves boxes, corner, nooks, crannies, basically pretty much anything/anywhere that is small and cozy so she can curl up in it. Unfortunately although it was a great idea he was not able to get one. At least he wasn’t able to get one until two days ago.

When he brought it over I was surprised at how big it actually was and we couldn’t have asked for a better reaction from my cat. She immediately jumped in and was eager to check it out. I’m really happy with the tent because she’s always in it, I think Mallory is too.

Over the mountains and through the woods to Kati’s house we went. Through rain, snow, and rain/snow mix we carried on, hopeful to make it to Winston-Salem North Carolina in good time. The drive was tedious and treacherous and extremely long, but 8 hours and 2 and a half tanks of gas later we made it. Although tired we were surprisingly in good spirits. Especially to see our friend Kati, who has been gone for far too long.

Although we saw lots of great things while on our trip, the most amazing thing was a little Tavern not far from Kati’s house. Something important you need to know is that the neighborhood that Kati lives in sits on a road called Robin Hood Way. For whatever reason the whole theme of this small part of the community deals with the outlaw who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. They have everything from Sherwood Lane to Naughtingham Cleaners.

Most importantly though they have a bar called Little John’s Tavern. To most Little John’s Tavern is nothing more than a bar owned and operated by Robin Hood’s right hand man. To us and everyone else who’s watched the Dave Chappelle show and MTV lately it is a fine establishment run by none other than Little John himself. Of course the Eastside Boyz and the Ying Yang Twins are there to help serve drinks.

Our imaginations ran wild with the though of such an establishment. Not only would “Crunk Juice” flow from the taps but we figured that a misheard drink order would be followed by a very loud, yet strangely familiar “WHHHAT”. Of course naturally when an order is placed a confirmation of “YEAAH!” would let you know that your drink was to be soon on the way. It was a hilarious concept and it cracks me up to think about it even now. Hopefully Dave Chappelle and Little John will read this and laugh about it as much as I have.

Here are some pictures from our trip.