Friday, July 30, 2010

Entry 65: Caleb: Origins

You,

I love the movie Tombstone.  I could quote pretty much the entire movie (as well as a million others- it's one of my skillz).   One summer when I was 12 I watched that movie every single day with my cousin, The Saw, between trips to the local pool.  He was about 17 at the time and so was the driver in our operation.  I think he drove a puke-green something-or-other that we called the snot-rocket. \

One day we were working some game at the pool and struck gold.  Two gals, 15 and 17, a blond and a brunette.  We chatted it up, flirted it up, and got their numbers before we left.  This was a first (for me, anyway).  The problem was that they lived 45 minutes away!

The Saw and I decided to make a road trip happen.  We needed funds so we collected cans, did odd jobs, and scraped money from under any couch cushions in a 50 mile radius.  We finally had enough assorted change and bills to pay for gas, a meal, and spiffy new outfits. 
The problem?

Well, again, I was 12.  I (read: The Saw) had lied and said that I was 14.  Hey, I looked and acted older anyway, right?  Plus, I forgot to mention that both of these girls were cute.  And developed (read: boobs).

So we had to lie and make up some other story about what we were really doing.  Don't even remember the lie, actually.  But we hit the road and drove off to have a campfire with our two new gal-pals.  Great success!

A night of hanging out, plenty of flirting, and roasted wieners (stop it you pervs) and it was almost time for us to get back.  Well, technically, we were probably already supposed to be back hours ago, but you know how it is (boobs!). 

The Saw took the older gal off somewhere to make out and there I was, a completely inexperienced 12 year old, with a 15 year old hottie who definitely thought I was older and cool. 

[The only point of conversation I can remember was when I made a lame joke about how they must have named the local Cedar River.  Me: "They probably said 'See-dare? River.'"  I know, lame.]


So did I make out with her?

To be continued...


Psych-
I wouldn't do that.  Of course I made out with her!  I don't remember whether that was my first kiss or first boob touch, but I can say that it was probably the coolest thing that had happened in my life up to that point.  It might have even gone further, but like I said I was 12 and I had NO idea what to do.  My only instinct was "Boob!  Must touch!" (still is, actually)

The Saw had a lucrative night as well, more so than me, but he was older too.  He later even pulled out the proverbial "dude- smell my finger!" 

We lied about the whole trip for a while, but inevitably we got busted and I think either theirs or our parents found out and there were some stern phone calls. 

I never saw my girl again, but I can still kind of picture the whole thing in my mind and remember how nervous I was touching them hooters.  If you women only knew the power you contained in those innocent-looking breasticles...  man.

So basically I lied, scrounged money, and flirted my way into making out with a hot girl that never called again.  Not much changes in 15 years, huh?

Caleb "Boobs!!!" Shreves

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Entry 64: Caleb Gets His First Hater!

Readers, 

As you may know, I have another side-blog that I keep updated with the worst (read: best) innuendos in the world.  News, conversations, blogs; it's all fair game to me.  If you haven't checked it out yet, do so right Meow!

Honestly, I thought that with all the shenanigans and crap I put on this blog that I would have hate some hater comments by now.  Oddly enough it hasn't happened yet.  Oh well.

But it did happen on my other site, "I'm Telling Your Mom!"

I hadn't checked any of my comments for a while (I didn't know you had to subscribe to your own stinkin' site to see them!) and yesterday I decided to see what was there.  I found this gem!

First, I'll give you the innuendo in question (it's a pretty good one, too)

"Hopefully he won't be lame anymore. Right now his stride is pretty short and choppy. He's not totally lame or anything, just... Off. :-/ So, I've just been riding him lightly lately. Just walking and trotting a little bareback, because he'll get totally out of shape if I just give him time off for too long." --

Not bad, right?  I like to tell people on their blog when I'm using something from their site (so they can check and see if they win ITYM of the year of course) and the owner of this blog posted under my comment section:

Lydia said... 

Hi,
I'd really appreciate it if you would stop totally abusing the blogs of people from the equestrian world. It's totally immature, especially without asking permission to borrow the quotes first. I don't appreciate you borrowing these quotes, and I'm sure the other people with equestrian based blogs don't either. Our phrases are not intended to be interpreted in this totally sick, mindless fashion the way you interpret them. In fact, your whole blog is completely ludicrous. I'm surprised an adult (or can I even say that) like you would be so immature as to do something like this, and twist our quotes into something horrendous. It's abusive, annoying, and frankly quite stupid. Please stop. Thank you. :)
~Lydia
www.stewylydia.blogspot.com (just for reference so you never so much at copy my quotes again) 


Righto then!   I was rubbing my hands in anticipation of a snappy retort, but when I checked her blog again I saw that she was only in 8th grade.  Can't be that mean to an 8th grader, right?

So I thought my response was appropriate.  I was a little nervous since I was fending off my first hate mail.

Caleb said... Ha! Just saw this.

Hi Lydia,

While- legally speaking- re-posting a quote from someone's blog is fine as long as you aren't claiming it as your own original content, I will, due to your indignant and self-righteous email, refrain from using your blog again for any purpose on this site. You're welcome!

However, don't make the mistake of generalizing all horse riders as humorless fussy-shorts; I happen to know several that are quite funny and even allow themselves to occasionally watch "The Office." Seen it? Good show.

This site is not only entertaining, but is also a public-awareness campaign. If you don't realize what your comments sound like to certain types of people (those whose humor stagnated at about 7th grade- approx. 36% of the population) you are bound to repeat them and face merciless laughter from we hooligans. I'm just trying to save you the trouble.

So I suppose your comment is out of contention for ITYM of the year. For shame!

I take it you won't be following this site?

Stay safe on that horse,


Caleb

Not bad, right?

Caleb "I picked on an 8th grader" Shreves

PS reminds me of when I told off the curly headed f*ck on my Pittsburgh trip! (Entry 33)
 

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Entry 63: Where Have All The OCD Gone... Long Time Passing!

Amigos,

First, forgive the grammar of this post title.  But you've heard that
song, right?

This post is about the amazing transformation of my friend from OCD nut
to not-so-OCD-anymore.

It's a story of trials, tribulations, remote controls and beer.

So how bad was she?  Well, let me give you a few of my favorite
examples.

1. Her hands normally look like a skeleton's, due to the fact that she hand
sanitizes after touching anything but air and carries around bottles of
it in her purse, car, desk, and pocket.

2. She is obsessed with the cleanliness of her dog and not only brushes his
teeth
every day with a doggy-brush, but wipes his butt after he poops
outside.  I know, right?

3. She couldn't touch dollar bills, and would hold her purse out so that
cashiers could just drop the money in.  Later, she would go home and
drop the bills into a sink filled with soapy water.  To dry them out,
she would hang them with little clothes-pins on a string.


4. Hotels were almost impossible.  She would sanitize the entire room, and
put the remote control (using gloves of course) in a ziplock bag so she
would not have to touch it.  ("I've seen those shows with the
blacklights!  Fuck that!")

Bad, right?

Well, she's a lot better now. Drugs, life, and copious amounts of
alcohol have given this gal an amazing life transformation!  Here is the
new and improved K:

1. She not only touched a hotel remote-control, but drunkenly fell asleep
with it in her mouth, drooling down the buttons.

2. She not only touches, but actually (to prove a point) licked a dollar
bill.  Straight from the stripper's ass, probably.

3. She has gone to a muddy redneck shenanigan-fest and not only gotten
dirty, but shared liquor with strangers and ate random redneck people's
food.

4. Making out with strangers, smoking cigarettes until her lungs burn,
drinking what she calls "swill" (aka Bud Light); it's almost like I
don't even know who she is anymore!

So, let's hear it for her!  What an amazing transformation, right?

The moral of this story is that, if you drink enough and hate yourself
enough, you can change anything about yourself that you want to.

Congrats, K.

Caleb "I might be a little OCD myself" Shreves

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Entry 62: Project Husband Gets Caleb-Ized

Potential applicants,

Those of you looking to get married; have you ever fantasized about your
dream wedding?  Ever known every detail and planned it in your mind?
Have you ever actually SET a date and bought a dress?

While still single?

Well, Lisa Lineham has.  She has started what she calls "Project Husband
2011"
and has the wedding already set and planned out.  Now on to the
easy part, right?  Just gotta go find a groom quick...

For you interested fellers out there, she has created a "position
description"
complete with 15 requirements and 22 paragraph-style
questions for you to ask.  Here's the link:

http://projecthusband2011.blogspot.com/2010/03/project-husband-position- description.html

First off, let's get it out of the way that in the majority of cases if
a date told you she already had a wedding plan, you would excuse
yourself to go to the bathroom and then sprint like Usain Bolt until
your lungs burst and you were sure that any roofies that the crazy had
put in your drink hadn't taken effect.

But let's say she was really, really hot?  Let's go with 8.5 or greater.

This is where my concern for this girl comes into play.  This situation
is what I would call "ripe for the picking" or "the low hanging fruit"
or "right in my wheelhouse."  I mean, she's already given herself the
pressure of a timetable right?

So all you have to do is play perfect nice guy while dragging time out
until getting rid of you is unthinkable.  Then, you have her by the...
er, well, you know- you have leverage.  (girls don't have balls)

"I want you to give me road head, right now."


"No... I don't really want to."


"Then the wedding is OFF!"


::she thinks about it, realizes that 2-3 months is too short of time to
find a replacement groom, and complies with your wishes::
 Great
success!


Wrong to manipulate someone like this?  Maybe.  Shallow?  Probably.  But
isn't it pretty shallow to create an ACT-like test to audition for a
wedding that you- and only you- have planned already?

That's why I worry for this girl- there are too many guys out there who would do this.

Or, maybe, the guy that is shallow enough to treat her that way will
match her shallowness completely and they will find ironic and lovely
bliss
together at their wedding!

Who knows.  Maybe she's just optimistic and creative and realizes that
she's not going to settle just because of some arbitrary date.

But you know how stubborn women are...

Here's how to trick Caleb into this.  Check it out:

You: "Wow, things are really going great with us Caleb.  I love spending
time with you!"

Me: "I know, right?  It's pretty super."
You: "You should like... marry me.  I'll never change and I'll always do
laundry and dishes!"

Me, eyes glazing over: "Wow, really?  Dishes?  Okay I guess... let's do
it!"

You: "Want me to plan everything out and you just show up and drink free
beer?"

Me: "Do I!?"
You: "Cool!  How does (pretend to think about it) August sound?"

See?  Easy.  Wait- I feel like I'm giving away my hand.

Crud.

I suppose, however, that as ridiculous as this plan sounds it's still better than the "I'll get pregnant and then he'll marry me" plan or the "It's been 3 months- I'm sure we should get married!" plan.  Got to give her credit for that.

So to hedge my bets, I think I'll plan a wedding for December 15, 2023.  I'll be 40 by then, and it should be after the Cubs win their 13th consequtive World Series Title.  Any takers out there?

Caleb "not as fast as Usain Bolt" Shreves

Monday, July 26, 2010

Entry 61: Sunday Funday!

Dudes and dudettes,

What have you been doing with yourselves on Sundays?

Going to church?  Running with the bulls?  Knitting?

Well stop all that and start enjoying yourself some Sunday Funday!  It occurred to me that some of you might not know of the tradition where, in an attempt to maximize your weekend fun and get over any Saturday night hangovers, you have as much fun as possible on Sundays. 

What should you do?


Well, for starters, you need to start drinking before noon.  Remember, you can't drink all day if you don't start in the morning.

You may be hungover and thinking "No way- I'll never have another drink" but trust me- it's the only way to lessen the pain.  If you're in extremely bad shape, I recommend Bloody Marys.

Then, assemble any friends you have to join you in drinking.

[by 'assemble' I mean bust into their house and wake their lazy asses up.  With a cold beer.]

Next, think of any crazy shenanigans you can and do them.  All day.

I recommend some of the following:

1. Go streaking (through the quads... to the gymnasium!)
2. Play you some gee-tar
3. Ride 4 wheelers really fast
4. Shave your head like a monk, put on cut-off bibs, wear cowboy boots, and ride around on your Harley

I present to you... Cledus.  aka Friar Tuck

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Entry 60: Let Me Put My Patriotism In You

My Fellow Americans (and close Canadian neighbors),

The chime of freedom is ringing in this blog today.  I'm going to address a touchy subject with you, namely: erotic massage.  (get it?  touchy?)

A  cyber-friend of mine was employed as the manager of an erotic massage parlor.  Lovely ladies, lingerie, massage, and a "Happy Ending."  (For you Puritans out there, that means a hand job.  For you Quakers out there, a hand job means hand-on-penis sex done from one person to another)

Her place of business is legal, taxed, regulated, and the workers there have far more protections and rights than the ladies who work as prostitutes in Nevada.  This place must be in Canada, right?  Right.  Sure is.  Why?  Because this activity is illegal (with scant exception) in the US.  Shameful, I know.

You might be thinking, "Caleb wanting erotic massage legal... duh!"  and you would be right, but probably for the wrong reasons.  I'm not sure if I could even pay for such an act.  How awkward, right? 

"Um, hi... I'm Caleb.  This is, uh, my wiener."

Commence handjob.

Maybe if they liquor you up first!

So on what grounds do I want to see this industry legal?  Well, I'll tell you: freedom.  I want the freedom to get an erotic massage and I would want the freedom to give them for money.  Well, not me personally, but you know.

You will find opposition to the legality of erotic massage in many forms, but here are three common reasons:

1. It demeans women (as if you couldn't have males in this industry)
2. It is morally wrong
3. It encourages other, more risky illegal behavior (read: they're all crackwhores and sell/do drugs)

I'm not going to offer a point-by-point rebuttal of these reasons, but suffice it to say that they suck and that I disagree wholeheartedly.  Plus, the way I see it, the farther that morals and values get from regulating my personal life- the better. 

Does that make me a libertarian?  I hope not.  I'm just of the "don't bust my chops" mentality, and I'm willing to extend that same courtesy to others.  That's what freedom means to me: handjobs, pot, and not being legally required to wear your seat belt. 

Sigh.

I'd like to say that things are getting better, but sadly I don't think they are.  Just today a weed-like drug, K2, was outlawed in Iowa.  Turns out people were having fun using it, so they had to act quickly. 

As my final thought, let me put forward an idea to all of you readers: before you think that every person who works as an erotic massage is a dirty, drug-filled tramp; before you think that every trucker is a bearded, horny monster; before you assume even that every politician in America must be a crooked two-faced liar; recognize that these stereotypes and over-generalizations lead to nothing but not-freedom. 
And we're against not-freedom, right?

Caleb "I'll take a happy ending!" Shreves 


PS here is the link to me singing THE NATIONAL ANTHEM!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAg4ahW9Ils

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Entry 59: Nice Guys Versus Douches

Gang,

How nice is too nice?

If you look at the statistics (or just assume them in your own head) you will see that, on average, douchier guys have better luck with women.

Why is this?

Granted, no girl should be with an out-and-out douche machine.  A guy that never respects a woman, treats her like crap, and acts like a raging ass 24-7 is not a good long-term match for a girl.  But there must be something in the confidence of these types of guys that makes girls overlook the popped collar and backwards hat and give them a chance.  Why?

Many theories on this subject abound.  You can just scan the blogosphere and see 100 opinions on this matter, but my two cents is that women like confidence.  Women like a man that goes his own way, knows himself, and -most of all- can be fun.  Douchery sometimes looks like a weird form of confidence, and women aren't always great at knowing the difference (that and they're born optimistic romantics). 

But some guys, for some reason, sacrifice some of their... manliness (for lack of a better term) in some sort of ill-conceived idea that they're doing the right thing for their girl.

Wrong.

The Nerv has recently gone through some life changes that have made him rethink his approach to dating.  He has offered to write a guest post about the trade-offs between niceness and assertiveness, and I think you'll all enjoy it.  His perspective is fascinating, because he is both lucky with finding women but also one of the nicest men around.  You can guess how things usually work out for him!

He's notoriously tardy (like I mentioned yesterday) but hopefully this warm up post will entice him to hustle up and send me his work.

You'll want to read it.

So, ladies, what's your experience with nice guys and douches?  Or, if you've found someone special for yourself (or a great husband like housewifey), why do they work out so well for you?

Hustle up, Nerv. 

And get me my anthem recording!

Shreves out. 

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Entry 58: The Minneapolis Trip (aka Nerv's Big Day)

Hey Team!

Back from Minneapolis, where I joined Nerv in a weekend of debauchery.  If you have any vacations planned there in the next couple of weeks, I would bring your own booze because they just started restocking the state with alcohol today.  Sorry about that.  I was thirsty.

There was a lot that happened this weekend, so I'll give you a top-ten "by the numbers" version that should give you a good idea of what happened:

1. Irish Carbombs Drank: >15
2. Innings of Twins/Sox baseball watched: 17
3. Layers of harmony I sang, hungover, to make my own recording of the National Anthem: 6
4. Number of great-looking chicks in the Toby Keith bar: >50
5. Dents to Nerv's car added: 2
6. Number of times Nerv and I switched shorts at a crazy hippie-party: 2
7. Times pretended to be a guy who saw someone's ad on craigslist and texted them for a date: 1
8. Times that turned out to be hilarious: 1
9. Times tackled into a fence leading to moderately severe wounds: 1
10. Pain level from ripping off the bandage and tape from those wounds: 8


Yikes.  When you look at it that way, it's almost like some of these require some explanation!

First off, Nerv makes Irish Carbombs like a champion.  Instead of a half-Guinness, .75 shot of Jameson, and a half-shot of Bailey's, Nerv uses a full 15 oz. Guinness, 2-3 shots of Jameson, and a shot of Baileys.  Very, very dangerous.  And delicious.

Let's break down the actions of our 2 protagonists!

Sweet/Dick moves by Caleb and Nerv:


Nerv:

    Dick move:  his apartment has no fan, no air, and he turns the heat up to 140 degrees.  I literally had to take a spaceship to the sun to cool off now and then.

    Sweet move: during a massive hangover he got me coffee, smokes, and made scramby eggs.

Caleb:

    Sweet move:  walked 10 blocks round-trip to buy materials for lots and lots of carbombs

     Dick move:  made Nerv and his friend (The Nurse) leave in the 8th inning of the Twins/Sox game.  It was 6-2 and there was no way I could have known that the Twins were going to stage the most epic comeback in the 9th.   My bad.

Nerv:

    Dick move:
Was supposed to be DD for Toby Keith bar, instead he was so hammered he passed out in the bathroom.  I drove.  Quote from guy who passed him in the hallway of the bathroom: "That guy's havin' a great time!"

    Sweet move: 
Recorded and edited me singing the national anthem in my opera voice, very hungover, in 6 part harmony.  Tape forthcoming.

Caleb:

    Sweet move:  Went to a hippie party and was told to "switch pants" with Nerv.  Instead of a mass-hippie beatdown, I complied amicably.  Luckily I had some sweet blue underwear on

    Dick move:  Yelled at dozens of hippies while driving around town.  "Get a job, hippie!" I'd yell to some guy on a park bench, or "Nice Prius- now you can get great mileage when you drive to I'll-never-get-a-BJ-town!"  to some dude.  Or litter and drop cigarette butts right next to some chick on a moped.  "Earth can suck it."

The Bearded Bear:


    Sweet move:  Provided air conditioned shelter from the Nerv inferno and mixed some more reasonable Carbombs.

    Dick move:  Tackled me outside into an old rusty fence.  I might need a tetanus shot.  (though he did doctor me up pretty good)


I'm still missing a few stories, so I might have to follow up on this one.  Also, if I can, I'll provide a link to my recording of the National Anthem.  When I get it from Nerv, who is notorious for tardiness.  Like, not even kidding.  I'm going to make an official guess of 2 weeks, minimum.  We'll see!

Friday, July 16, 2010

Entry 57: The Crazy Ex

Well, here goes.  I'm about to tell you why I think women are crazy by explaining one of my relationships to a girl, "Ethyl." 
We'll skip to the good stuff, eh?

Ethyl started out fairly normal.  In fact, better than normal.  I probably had a good 6 months of the best relationship I've ever had.  Perfect.  We weren't technically 'together' and I had all the freedom in the world, and she was so good about everything that I was constantly appreciating her and doing nice things for her. 

And then the crazy started.

I received The Ultimatum (essentially 'date me for real or we're done'), and after how awesome things had been I said "Sure, let's date.  You rock!"  (after some careful deliberation, of course)

She kept things how they were when we were 'casual' for about... a day, and then started getting crazy, crazier, and craziest.   Usually long, drawn out arguments over the phone followed by making up and a few days of normal.  But she kept getting more and more unstable, and the fights got worse, and she developed sort of a split personality that was very Jekyll-and-Hyde-ish.  

At the very end, there were some... incidents that I'm going to tell you about.  These stories are 100% true, and there are probably a half dozen more like them.

#1  The Stadium


We walk from my apartment to a stadium at a large University to watch a game (basketball, I think).  There was a mega-fight brewing between us, but instead of my usual "try my hardest to calm her down so that this doesn't get to stage 5," I'm doing more of a "omg are you seriously doing this right now?" 
By the time we get to the stadium she is in full-on rage mode.  We're no more than ten steps into the crowd by the concessions and she, literally, is so upset that she curls up in a ball on the cement floor next to peanut shells and hot dog buns, sobbing/yelling, and generally causing a commotion.  She might have even plugged her ears.

If you've ever seen a child throw a tantrum in a store, you know what I'm talking about.  I decide that this is one of the most ridiculous moments of my life and that I need to cajole her into leaving this public area, ASAP. 

Side note: as the crowd is weaving around this adult woman curled up in a ball on the floor (and mostly avoiding eye contact with either of us) a small child says some comment.  She looks up with demon eyes and tells this 10 year old kid:

"Shut the fuck up you little bastard!"


And even starts to get up. (Was she going to whup a kid's ass?  We'll never know)  I used this as a way to start ushering/dragging her back outside and towards my apartment.  We begin a pattern where she makes it about 30 feet at a time, sobbing, and then crumples to the ground bawling.  People are noticing.  One lady comes over and says:

"Is she okay?"

Me:  "Yeah... she uh... just found out her, uh, dog died."  (Smooth.)

How ridiculous was this, right?  I don't remember clearly (it's been years now), but I think that this was the moment where I looked up at the sky and finally said "Okay, I get it.  It's over."

#2 Walmart

After a fight we had I decide that I'm just leaving the room.  However there was no escaping Ethyl.  If you went to your apartment, she followed.  If you locked the door, she would bang on it as loudly as possibly, screaming, until either security showed up or you opened it.  If you went into your bedroom, she would follow and scream at you. 

So, out of options, I get in my car and leave.  Thinking I'm pretty clever, I go to Walmart and ignore all of Ethyl's calls along the way.  After about 30 missed calls the barrage ends and I thought I was in the clear.  I wasn't.  After a minute I get a voicemail alert.  "Great." I think and go to check it.  I'll paraphrase:

"You, motherfucker, had BETTER answer your GODDAMN phone when I call again in 3 minutes.  THREE MINUTES EXACTLY CALEB!  If you don't answer, I swear to God I'm calling the police.  I'll tell them you've been kidnapped, or are missing, or whatever, just so long as they go out and look for you.  I'm not even fucking joking.  THREE MINUTES!"

*it's been so long since I've been in this situation that I've lost some of the specific dialect and manner of speaking that she had.  This, essentially, was the point of the call though and she definitely threatened to call the Po. 

I think I wimped out at this point and called her, but mostly to berate her for her craziness and ridiculousness.  I would usually say things like "If your stated goal is for me to like you more and stay together with you, DON'T ACT THIS WAY."  Yeah, I know, that doesn't help much- but I was young. 

#3 Keys and Claws


Obviously I broke up with Ethyl.  It wasn't pretty, but a somewhat amicable friendship emerged and we were even in a same summer class together a month or so after the breakup.  Meanwhile though, I had started to chase after another girl (who ended up being my next girlfriend).  Well, Ethyl came over one night and seduced me (okay, in fairness, it didn't take much and it was probably mostly my fault).  It was a few days after this that Ethyl found out about New Girl. 

She reacted calmly and said we shouldn't be friends anymore because she was too upset.

Psych!

She goes to New Girl's place and starts MASHING the door.  She wanted New Girl to come out and fight her over "her man" (definitely and technically been broke up for some time now).  New Girl has to call the police and says as much (after repeated warnings for her to leave) to Ethyl.  Ethyl is dragged away by her friend before the cops got there, but on her way out she takes her keys and keys the ENTIRE side of New Girl's car.

I hear about this the next morning.  I'm pissed because I'm worried it's going to ruin my fragile new relationship with New Girl, who was (and is) very, very hot. 

Oh- and we had class that morning.  Together.  Yup.  Oh- and hungover, too.

[Nerv would like to point out that when he saw my face that morning, it was the maddest he has ever seen it, to this day.]

What happens in class?

Scenario:  about 40 people in class.  10 minutes before it starts.  No teacher yet.  I come in and see Ethyl at our table- which we shared with a few mutual friends. 

I take the textbook, which we had been sharing, and set it (drop it, probably) down in front of her.  "We're done.  No friendship, no nothing.  That was ridiculous Ethyl and completely uncalled for.  You'll be paying to fix her car, too."

Wrong words. 

As I sit down, she gets up to come over and stand right next to me.  She screams, she yells, she cries.  ALL in front of the entire (and now very awkwardly silent) class of college kids.  I try and reason with her to at least go outside and out of class, but each time I even make a move to get up or touch her arm, she blazes forth a new type of rage that even I hadn't seen yet.  I'm getting worried.  She's building herself into a frenzy.  It's not simmering down.  Then I get pissed and say something (no idea what) and she...

Pulls back her arm and reaches out to claw me, tiger style!  In my mind this all happens in slow motion so I, Matrix style, weave my head out of the way.  Not fast enough, though.  One of her talons strikes my face deep enough to cause bleeding.  I wish I could tell you the immediate aftermath of this, but I honestly do not remember.  I can tell you though, that 10 minutes later she was in her seat (staring daggers at me) while an oblivious teacher rambled in and began teaching the most quiet and awkward class in collegiate history. 

Funny note:
halfway through class I needed a pencil and asked our table for one.  Only one friend was brave enough to respond (the others said later that they feared for their life) and offered me an extra pencil.  Ethyl actually SNARLED at her.  Snarled. 

And you wonder why I think women are crazy?  



I've thought of some possible questions that a reader of this story might have:

1.  Why, Caleb, did you stay with her after even one crazy incident?


Answer:  My best explanation of this is that things spiraled out of control gradually, and most of the very worst happened right towards the end.  There's also the love factor- I did love this girl and felt that- other than a tendency for occasional psychotic incidents- she was an incredible girlfriend.  Mostly though, I am going to admit to you that it was probably sex.  The sexual part of our relationship, for whatever reasons, was the most satisfying that I've ever experienced.  She may have actually ruined me that way for future girls.  Touche, Ethyl.

2. What did YOU do to cause this?

Answer:  Fair question.  It's been said that if there is an ember of crazy in a girl, I am a bellows.  I will fan that ember into a crazy-flame and bring out the worst in otherwise normal girls.  In a broad sense, I have no idea what causes this.  With Ethyl specifically though, I think that she wanted more and more of my attention and affection and got upset if she didn't get it.  Just speculating, though.

3.  What did other people think of all this?

Answer: They thought it was shit.  They were, for the most part, nice and friendly to her but constantly argued with me about staying with someone mentally unstable.  In fact, this ended up causing some problems with some of my good friends who became disgusted that I would stay with someone like this.  That, and they probably got sick of hearing us have sex (despite my best efforts- and I tried- this girl was LOUD)

4.  If she was this nuts, why were you dating her?

Answer:
The crazy stories are the funny ones.  There are lots of other things that were really wonderful in the relationship (not just sex).  She was funny, clever, beautiful, a good listener, and was one of the few women I've ever dated who I felt got to know me on a deeply personal level.  I also had sex with her once in the car while driving down the interstate.                              Caleb <---------rules

5.  What's she doing now?  Did you ever talk to her after the classroom incident?

Answer: Years later.  I didn't like that this was the only relationship I'd had that ended this badly and softened my view on her over time.  I sent her a nice note that said, essentially: "Sorry about the way things ended, I know that I could have acted differently, I'd like to remember the positive things about you and not feel awkward about things in case I ever ran into you." She responded with a very nice note and said, essentially, "Me too.  I acted childishly and am embarrassed by the things I did, thanks for the note and I hope things are well."  Since then I know she's gotten married and seems to be doing well.  We send each other birthday wishes every year. 


I have debated posting this for some time.  The odds of her ever reading this are very remote, but if she did I would hope that the good-humored and happy Ethyl would see it as entertaining and not think I was being a giant doucher.  Maybe it's my optimism creeping up again, but I bet now, looking back, she thinks this is all pretty funny too.


Or, she'll track me down and claw me to death.


Either way, good story!

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Entry 56: Why Friends Rock

Fellow slackers,

For whatever reason, I've decided to forgo my usual irreverent and idiotic form of entertainment and display what I like to call "actual thoughts."

Two very good friends, whose names both start with a K, had birthdays this week so I thought I would talk about why they rock and why having awesome friends is awesome. 

First K:


Everyone likes to have someone that they can argue and bicker with, agreed. Every once in a while though you meet someone who really, really likes to bicker with you (though they may argue this fact with you).  So much so that you lose track of the times that they're no longer even talking to you (I'm going to guess around 13)?!

However, often these people are some of the best mirrors you'll ever have into your own personality.

My friend Kimmelia Earhardt is one of these types.  Because I can't tell you how many times I've heard "Fuck off, Shreves" from her mouth or how many times she's said something in anger and stomped off.  The thing is, often what she says rings true in my mind for days and weeks and I end up reflecting on my own behavior and usually make a personal change for the better.  What greater gift could a friend give you?

She really tries to see me for me.  She is the type who notices things about you that you thought no one even cared about.  She calls your BS, keeps your assholery from going too far into the red, and even occasionally leads prank-parades to your house.  Only the very best type of friends will be honest with you all the time, and Kimmie is one.

She's also one of the most idiotically dependable and loyal people I've ever known.  And a lot of fun, too. This is the type of girl that would happily grab a shotgun and hop in the truck with you to go kill a cheating husband.  Or go rescue kids out of a bad home just based on your word that it was so.  She would do any favor, be there for you any time you ever asked, and would give up her own house and home to you if she felt you needed it.  When people speak about the 'quality' of a friend, they're talking about Kimmie.

When you have a lot of friends, you're going to see them come in and out of your life.  But there are a rare few who seem to have a life-long bond and feel almost like a family member.  Hang on to these types of friends, readers, for they are special.  I'm sure glad I have this one, and wish Ms. Kimmie a very happy birthday!

She's still not allowed to drink schnapps, tequila, or whiskey when she's arguing with me though.  And she'll never be as good at the double quiz game, despite what she might tell you.

Second K:

"Krust" holds some sort of world record for meteoric rise of friendship-level over a short time span.  I've barely known her for two years, yet she is one of the closest people to my heart I've ever had. She's so much like me in many ways that we sometimes pretend we're sister and brother when we're out. 

We all have layers to our personality.  We speak more openly with some than others, and we hide certain things about ourselves from certain people.  If you are very, very lucky however you might one day get to be blessed with the amazing type of friendship I have with Krust where you can truly and openly be yourself. Where you can open up even the darkest corners of your soul to someone and not be afraid of what they'll think.  Experiencing that kind of unconditional acceptance is liberating, moving, and so valuable that I don't even know how to describe what my life would be like without her.

Krust is amazingly funny, witty, and intelligent.  She is reasonable and tough yet has traces of a vulnerable feminine side that she tries to hide.  Most of the time.  She is beautiful, engaging, and has taken some hard knocks from life but always emerged stronger and wiser.  She is cynical and snarky, but when you dig down a bit below that she is one of the most inspirational and hopeful people you will ever know. 

She has been my friend, confidant, counselor, wing-man, travel companion, coworker, and even occasionally a second mom.  (not that she's old!) She's put up with every extreme of my personality, from ego-maniac to whiny baby, cocky womanizer to judging jerk, wise old man to juvenile punk.  She is one of the only people in my life who has ever successfully seen every facet of my personality and never lost sight of who I really am. I've never felt awkward, unsure, or down around her. If you take a look at the friendships she makes in her life, it's obvious that I'm not the only one who notices this and she has a fantastic crew of friends whom I'm sure would all agree with everything I've said about her.  She is a one-of-kind friend who adds immeasurable
value and joy to your life.

I wasn't born with a sister, but now I've been blessed with the greatest sister and friend a person could ever ask for.  Happy birthday, Kristy!


And to all of my great friends out there who have made me such a lucky person, I say thanks!  I may act independent and strong, but I guarantee that I wouldn't make it a single day without all of the support and
friendship that you have all given me.

Cheers to great friends, readers.  They're the best gift you'll ever get!

Caleb

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Entry 55: Caleb's Prank-A-Thon Enters Phase I

Looking for a cheap Iphone?

How about a roommate for $250 a month?

How about a new fishin' buddy?  (please text a pic of your biggest
catch!)

Looking for a website design job at an up-and-coming company?

Need a PSP?

Well, if you do, just go to Craigslist and you'll find fantastic
opportunities for all of these and more!  They've all even listed the
number to call/text them directly!

Just don't be surprised if they text back something like "Who is this?
What Iphone?" or "Quit sending me pictures of your wiener!"

Just keep texting/calling- I'm sure they'll all remember eventually.

That being said, I'm sure some of you more evil readers might have a few
ideas for things to include in phases II-V, so feel free to hit me up
with your best stuff!

Seriously- who poops in a cat litter box?

Caleb "boy, my friends sure sell a lot of stuff on Craigslist" Shreves

PS heard my new favorite "douchebag guy" date story last night.  The guy was very generous, offering to pay for dinner and all of their drinks.  Little did she know, he had stolen HER debit card to pay for it!  Classy.  She didn't say how the second date went.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Entry 54: Caleb Rides Bus, Has Toilet On Roof

Friends and Neighbors,

Take a Corona, drink away a neck's worth, then pour a shot or two in the
bottle and tip it upside down.  Add lime, drink, then  repeat several
dozen times.  That was my drink of choice on this past weekend's bus
trip!  Well, that and drinking Goldschlager straight from the bottle.

I'd like to regale you with some stories from the bus, but it was mighty
insane and my camera broke so I don't have pictures.  I can tell you
that I temporarily lost my wallet, had myself dropped off at a park at
1AM when bus-claustrophobia took over, and sang the shit out of some
Garth Brooks karaoke.  I don't think anyone puked, no one went to jail,
and I didn't see (or smell) any sex on the bus.

Oh, and some girl I didn't know professed her hate for me.  Later I find
out that I dated her sister a few years ago for about a week.  It was an
amicable ending and we're still friends, so I don't know what the story
is there.  I tried to win her over with drinks, epic singing, and a
sincere apology, but she was tough.  Oh well- can't win 'em all, right?

Oddly enough, the most drama enfolded at my house that night when I
wasn't even home.  It started with a call from my cousin telling me to
"not come home" until I'd worn off some hangover and felt in a better
mood.  He said there was a party at my house (sans me) and some pranking
was involved.  To better tell the story, I will show you my Facebook
status updates:

1.      Dear whoever had an unauthorized party at my house and put a toilet on my roof,  prepare for me shitting in your house/car at my next earliest convenience. Not joking.

2.      Also, if you would like to remove the toilet from my roof, I might consider exempting you from said shitting. You have until, well, it happens. And with these rumblings, it'll be soon.

3.      I know the difference between feline and human excrement, and my cat's litter box contains both. Well played.

Every piece of furniture in the house was moved, every picture or
painting removed (and occasionally replaced with pants), all of my
clothes were knotted or turned inside out, my socks were tied together
and strung throughout my bedroom, my fridge and freezer were packed with
misc. items (i.e. bathroom scales and pillows), available surfaces were
covered with writing (in toothpaste, no less), stove tops were hung from
curtain rods, and my bed was in my kitchen.

What do you do when you're hungover and confronting all of this?  What
any sane man does- you curl up on your bed in the kitchen and nap.

Later it was claimed that I told people earlier in the day (when the bus
stopped out at my hometown bar) that I was planning on having an after
party (aka 'afties') when I got home, so I suppose that's a mitigating
factor concerning the unauthorized party.

Still, I have an epic amount of house/car-shitting to do this week, so
I'd better get eatin'.

And seriously- who poops in a litter box?

Caleb "barely survived the weekend" Shreves

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Entry 53: Caleb Meets Sis, Rides Bus

Avast ye mateys!

Against what little 'better judgment' I might have, I'm going to ride a party bus today.  'Sis' is back and safe from Iraq and has decided to celebrate by renting a bus for 8 effing hours today.  Who is Sis?

Well, the first time I met her was in a class for work.  All week long I thought she was a bitch, and I later found out that she thought I was an idiot.  I think we were both right. 

At the end of the week everyone went out for a few drinks at lunchtime.  Little did I know, Sis can put them back!  

So we drank lots at the bar we were at, then realized that it was only about 4PM and we'd inadvertently put on our drinking shoes.  We crossed the street and put down a few (several) martinis. 

Caleb: "You know, all week, I thought you were a bitch.  Turns out with a few drinks you're pretty tolerable!"
Sis: "um, you know how you thought you were funny and cracked jokes all week?  I thought you were annoying and an idiot."
Caleb: "Your face looks like a toad."

We weren't done after martinis either, and Sis convinced me to go up to a last bar for some karaoke.  Little did I know, karaoke was in this girl's (and family's) blood. 

So we sang, drank, laughed, sang, and then she spilled the bouncer's drink 5 different times.  Classy.  She played Tina Turner and sang with an old black man she called "Ike."  

At some point we decided that we should go out and yell at traffic passing by.  "Honk if you support stem cell research!" we yelled over and over again.  (don't ask- we were hammered.)

As we were getting really hammered, I pulled an ultimate Caleb stunt.  When I grabbed the microphone to sing karaoke I asked for a minute to say something and got the entire drunken crowd of 100 or so people to hush and pay attention for my serious announcement.

Caleb: "Hey everyone.  Hi.  Um, I wanted to make an announcement here today.  This girl here (Sis) is my sister.  I love her to death.  Well today she told me some big news and I wanted to tell all of you.  She is no longer hiding and living in a shameful lie, and just today told me that she is, in fact, a lesbian. This doesn't bother me at all, and I love her no matter what, but if ANY of you have a problem with my sister being a lesbian, you come talk to me now.  [turn to Sis] I so admire your bravery, Sis.  I love you even if you're a muff diver.  Cheers to Sis!"

And everyone claps and hollers and cheers. 

She told me that, for months after this incident, she would still get people coming up to her saying "don't I know you from somewhere?"

Ha!

I've since learned that she and her entire network of friends and family are Karaoke NUTS and like to party like it's going out of style. 

Like, they got us kicked out of ROSS' at 3am one night.  Who gets kicked out of Ross'?  Her friend was screaming "Cook-ay Monster!"  over and over again in some sort of drunken tribute to Sesame Street. 

Well, anyway, I'm off to get on this crazy bus.  Hopefully Krust will come through as my "escape" vehicle if necessary.  8 hours is a LONG day.  On a bus. 

Oh, and I drove a brand new 2010 Dodge Challenger yesterday.  Going to test drive a 2010 Camaro today.  Am I that crazy?  We'll see.

Caleb "I might end up in jail tonight" Shreves

Friday, July 9, 2010

Entry 52: Caleb Flirts Like A Jedi Master, Johann Knows Where Home Is

Ahh!

Anyway. 

So I was honing my game last night and practicing some new flirting skills.

Here's a situation: you've been flirting with one girl.  Later, you're flirting with another girl (Girl 2).  Girl 1 comes back to flirt more when you're in the midst of flirting with Girl 2.  What do you do?

Normally, it's a little weird and you try to be nice and kind-of flirty with Girl 1 while not being too flirty as to alienate Girl 2.  Not anymore!  I do what I want.  So last night I change tactics:  drop Girl 2 and flirt heavy with Girl 1.  Until it's at all boring, then either go do something else or flirt with Girl 2 again.  You'd think that maybe Girl 2 would begrudge you for ditching her?

Nope.  Chicks love it! 

Women are so weird.  So I tried this new maneuver last night with about 6 Girls, all at the same bar, and it worked like a champ!

Sadly, none of them could cook or clean so I didn't take any home, but it's the practice time that counts.

In other news, a drunk guy dropped his giant glass mug on the cement and smashed it into a million pieces.  

No, not me.

Oh, and Johann was out.  Fortunately he says he is now sure where his house is.  Thank God!

Stay classy

Caleb "spilled ketchup on his white t-shirt while eating a chicken patty" Shreves

PS some older lady I was chatting up at the first bar I was at looked at me and said "Are you a used car salesman?"  I don't think she meant it as a compliment!

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Entry 51: Caleb Has Rage, Sings

How do you deal with your rage?  I rarely get it, so when I do it usually comes out in interesting ways. (TWSS)

This morning my car decides that it's going to turn itself off after I start it.

Me: "huh? er...um, start now?  Yeah, you, car.  Start.  Ohmygod.  Fucking start.  Seriously?  Too hot for this right now."

I'm not a person who has any "skills" per se, so my eventual fixing idea is to unhook the battery and reattach it.  All you need for that is a wrench!

Wait- where's my wrench.  Where's my Goddamn wrench!! I stomp around the house, checking every place that I've ever put what few tools I have. 

PS I subscribe to the "if a hammer can't fix it, call someone" theory of home and auto repair.

Car problems?  Mildly annoying.  Losing something?  Throws me in a RAGE!  No idea why, but it happens every time.  I hate losing things.

So, I chain-smoke away most of my rage, then bang through the house making up a song to the tune of Garth Brooks' "I've Got Friends In Low Places"

Me:

"Oh I've got tools in lost places, where they do no good, 
and increase my rage, oh where are they?  This is fuckin' gay..."

Later the car is fixed  (yes I actually fixed something) and I'm parked at the store getting a Big-Ass Coffee.  When I get in my car again and before I start it, I give it a lecture about being a good car.

"Look, car, you need to START your ass up whenever I want you to.  Don't be givin' me this bullshit anymore.  -Yes, I know the door is ajar, but I want the CAR to be a'runnin!- I shouldn't have to unplug the damn battery just because my automatic key stopped working.  That's frickin GAY.  Why not just have some sort of reset button?  Huh?  What's wrong with you, car.  Now I'm late to work and won't be able to take off early tomorrow to golf. I HOPE you're fucking HAPPY."


Then I look over and the beer delivery guy is standing there with his cart, staring at me.  I look back at him.

"Just put one of those cases in my trunk, would ya?"

And I drive off.

Moral of the story: I'm insane, sing and talk to myself (and inanimate objects), and become enraged when I lose things.

Put that on your "things I know about Caleb" list.


Caleb "found his tools in a drawer where someone else must have put them" Shreves

PS In case you don't follow ITYM, there was a headline on Reuters.com that read, and I swear to God this is true:

"Tired Gay succumbs to Dix in 200 meters"

He must have got about 100 meters away and then said "fuck it.  I guess I'll have some dix now."  Seriously?  Noone at Reuters caught this?

*thanks to Farjar for finding this gem.  Definitely a contender for ITYM of the year!

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Entry 50: Caleb Tells You Why Some Phrases Are Dumb

Team,

50 Entries!  Wow.  Anyone read them all?

Thought I would rant a bit today.  

Here are some phrases that you have probably heard in your life.  I contend that they are dumb, and will explain why.  Begin.

1.  "Have a catch"

What the fuck is have a catch?  "Have a catch with Dad day" at Wrigley; you hear it all the time during Cubs games.  No.  You don't HAVE a fucking catch- you HAVE Chlamydia.  You PLAY catch.  Cripes.

2.  "Use humor"

Like humor is some kind of tool in your goddamn arsenal.  You paw through your junk drawer... rage?  No...  um, sadness?  No... how about.. oh! Here it is!  Humor.  Yeah.  I'll use that now.  If you have to "use" humor, then you aren't funny.

3.  "Are we all finished with that plate?"

Umm.. are we??  I think you can tell by the fact that there is literally not ONE FUCKING THING left on my plate that I'm done, however I have NO EFFING IDEA if you even have a plate, where it might be, or if you're done with it.  So don't ask!  Unless you have a turd in your pocket, "we" is not to be used in most situations.

4.  "That's hilarious"

No, if something is hilarious, then that will become known by the fact that you are laughing uproariously and wiping away tears from your eyes.  If you are mildly smiling and have to say that something is hilarious, then it is not, in fact, hilarious.  Please replace "hilarious" with "mildly amusing."

5.  "So I said, 'listen'..."

Follow this up with you telling me what you told someone else.  One, I do not care.  Two, what you are saying you said to someone else is never, ever what you actually said.  What you are currently telling me is what you wished you would have had the balls to say.

That's 5 off the top of my head.  There are lots more, I know, but I get myself riled up just talking about them.

Time to go calm myself down by reading about the Cubs.

Er, wait.  That plan isn't going to work.

Crud.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Entry 49: Caleb Makes A Case For Humans Using Dog Medicine

First off, (firstly?), do not, I repeat: do not, drink boxed wine on Mondays.  Or any day for that matter.

I'm driving to work today, probably still drunk, singing some Hank Williams in the car at the top of my lungs, and I stop to look down at my legs.  "Am I wearing pants?" I ask myself.  Luckily, the answer today was yes. 

Farjar Binx has asked me to ruminate on the idea of humans taking medicine intended for dogs.  First, the facts:

Okay, scratch that.  I spent 5 minutes googling and couldn't find any information on what types of medicine dogs take (other than the basics) and only got results for why humans shouldn't, for the most part, give their dogs their human medicine.

So let's look at this another way.  Why would you, a human, want to take dog medicine?  If you are like me then you most likely enjoy taking medications for their "fun-ness" and not for any sort of health benefit.  ADD drugs, pain-killers, maybe a xanax now and again- these are all drugs that are taken pretty much because you feel like it, even though you often conjure in your head some "legitimate" reason you should be taking them (lies). 

Do dogs have ADD?  Well, yes, but since they all do it's not really classified as a disorder.

Do dogs feel pain?  Sure, but they aren't particular about whether they get the good stuff or not.

Do dogs have anxiety?  Probably, but hey, newsflash:  they're fucking DOGS. 

That being said, there aren't any good meds that a dog has that you want, other than if you get tapeworms (yes, humans are known to get them).   So, if you have tapeworms, can you take your dogs pills?

Sure!

Cheaper, too.  (there's a racket.)

Further more, you and Fido can actually share a good deal of your medicine cabinet.  Here are some things that you use that your mangy fleabag can also use:

1. Aspirin
2. Pepto Bismol (true story)
3. Benadryl
4. Antibiotics
5. Ritalin (psych!)

No seriously- don't give your dog Ritalin.  And under no circumstances should you crush Ritalin into a fine powder and snort it before a college binge-drinking session.

Absolutely do not drink boxed wine.

What? 

So, to recap:  you can take any of your dog's medicine as long as it seems like a good idea.  Conversely, your dog will probably eat any of your medicine as long as you wrap it in a turkey gizzard first.  I dated a girl like that.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Entry 48: Caleb Leaves Drunken Rambling Message

Yes, I work holidays.  You're welcome.

Sadly (or awesomely) my streak of late-night shemanigans has continued unabated for almost 3 weeks now.  At 3AM  this past Thursday I was out with Cledus and his girlfriend (now named Droopy) and in "a mood."

The Lizard called me the  next day and said that I had left one of the most ridiculous voice messages on her phone she had ever heard.  She played it for me and, in fact, she's right.  I've lost my mind.  Lizard was kind enough to transcribe this message for me, and I thought I would share it with you so you understand the consequences of being friends with me.

*this entire message is left in a thick hillbilly drawl

2:32 AM

"Hey!  This is Cledus.   Did you jest hang up on me?  Goddamnit,  I'm gunna rub my nuts all over Caleb's face and stuff and take a picture 'n send it to you.  'Cause I'm Cledus.  And I like other weiners in ma mouth.  Sooo... you need to answer yer phone, 'cause I heard Caleb say you don't turn off yer phone, so I knows you heard it ring, woman!!  You need to pick on up when that there phone rangs, cuz that's what we do here in America.

You gotta pull that stick on out yer butt.  An' then put it back in, an' do the same thing like a hunnert times, an' make noises an' record them noises on yer phone fer me to listen to 'cause I find that attractive.  Sometimes I listen to them when I feel myself and goddamnit I come and don't care who knows it!!

Hey!  By the way, my girlfriend Droopy's a lesbian, so if you kids wanna hook up, just lemme know.

But [something mumbled] lesbians [mumble mumble]... [pause]  No!  It's true though!!  I mean, two vaginers touchin' each other is a beautiful thing that the Lord made, that's how he intended it, was fer two vaginers to touch each other until a penis enters the mix, and then that penis should have his choice amongst the vaginers, or take 'em both.

It's in the good book, so you know he meant it.  Genesis, chapter 1, subsection 7 paragraph 9 word 80 says that the good Lord wanted the vaginers to touch each other in the presence of a man until he hath chosen which vaginer unto..." [To replay this message, press 4]


I know- I'll grow up one day.  Just not today!

Happy 4th!

Friday, July 2, 2010

Entry 47: Caleb Writes Essay Defending Freedom, Eats Burrito

                Like most Americans, I get up each day with a warm fuzzy feeling in my groin at the prospect of living yet another day in the freest nation in history.   My protections and freedoms guaranteed me by our constitution and upheld by our government for centuries are beautiful, precious things.  These freedoms were not attained easily however, and upholding them against the many threats they’ve faced has been an ongoing and arduous task.   Fascism, terrorism, flavored coffee creamer; these things have launched assaults on our liberties that have required our best and brightest to ward off- often at great personal sacrifice.  But it’s not always the easy and obvious threats to liberty that we need to be concerned with. 
                Before each new threat to our freedoms there have been voices quietly urging us to plan ahead, to take pre-emptive action, to defend ourselves against the trickle before we have to fight the wave.  Ladies and gentlemen I would like to be that voice for you, today.  Zombies.   Yes, zombies.  The potential for zombie invasion is the greatest threat to freedom that I could imagine.  Let’s take all of the freedoms you currently enjoy and apply a massive zombie apocalypse scenario:

Your right to free speech:  can’t speak with your brains eaten, right?
Your right to bear arms: they’ll keep a few zombies off for a while, but in the end you’ll be swarmed, eaten, and gun-less.
Freedom of religion:  “Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our-“oh wait, you just got zombie-d.  Now you know NO God except the unforgiving urge to maul the living.
Freedom of the press:  Just long enough to print one last paper reading “Run for you frickin life!”  Ed. Note:  The Wall Street Journal will not be going to press next week, as we will be eaten by zombies by then.

                See how every freedom is irrelevant if you’re dead and eating your neighbor’s brains?   I know many of you might say that the threat of zombie attack is extremely remote, or that zombies don’t even exist, (tell that to the West Africans) but it’s exactly that sort of complacent thinking that led to the spread of communism and salads being served at McDonalds.  Forewarned is forearmed. 
                I urge each and every one of you to not dismiss this threat; to believe that zombies are real and not merely the product of myth and psychological drugs.   Buy and stock weapons now (while you have the zombie-free freedom to do so), load up on food for your zombie shelter, and watch your neighbor like a hawk. 
               Once we are sure- and I mean 100% sure- that we are as prepared as possible for a zombie invasion, we can turn our attention to more urgent and everyday threats to our freedom.  Namely, the Twilight series.


Caleb "promise I'm not a zombie" Shreves

PS
This post is an entry in the blog contest responding to the new book, New Threats to Freedom edited by Adam Bellow. The contest is open to all and further information can be found here.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Entry 46: Caleb Has Hungover Adventures

Hungover and Still-Drunk.  Know the difference? 

So the crazy guy in my area, "JPac",  took it up a notch today.

How's he crazy?  Well, lots of things, but suffice it to say that he is the guy who will run out onto the driving range when you're golfing and "fetch" balls that he deems are close enough to get.  aka up to 100 feet.  He runs in circles and makes faces and noises.  40, married, kids, scary I know. 

Anywhoo, turns out that he goes to the local evangelical Mega-Church!  So, yes, of course, I am planning a trip to visit said church and see the JPac and family speaking in tongues and whatnot.

lalalalalalelelalaldlelaldlelaslsllel!!!!!   That was my speaking in tongues.

I figure I'm going to walk up to the hottest chick there, tap her on the shoulder, and say "Ma'am... I've sinned.  I've done things that make Jesus ashamed... If only I had the strength of a good woman to steer me straight, I might correct my wayward ways."

Think it'll work?  Any bets on whether or not I can pick up a crazy chick at the Mega-Church?  $20 says I do!  Oh, I'll have her speaking in tongues.  If you know what I mean.

Also today, I argued with a Jewish lady on whether or not Catholics have more guilt than Jews.  We called it a tie.  Well, technically, I said that Catholics have the edge on guilt but can just say what they did out loud and write a check and lower their guilt-quotient. 

Oh, and while walking to my lunch table (that sounds so 3rd grade) I passed a good lookin' chick with big jubblies and a pretty smile and responded to her "hello" with a perfectly gangster:

"How you doin'?"

Caleb  <------hardass

Yours truly,

Caleb "Seriously I promise tonight I won't stay out till 4AM" Shreves