Sebbylite

Ok, it isn’t much of a debate, but I do have a query for you, my loyal readers.

Here’s the situation: I moved into my current apartment in the end of November. This being almost August, that means that I’ve lived in my place for about 8 months. When I first moved in I made the trip to the supermarket for the “necessaries”, you know-light bulbs, toilet paper, door mat, dish soap, regular soap, dish towels, etc. All the things that you need on a day to day basis that you usually don’t pack on top of all your other stuff, and can’t remember where in the pile of shit that you have moved to your new place they are hiding.

Anyway, I just realized that I have gone through 3 1/2 rolls of toilet paper to date. That’s all.

8 months. 3 1/2 rolls of toilet paper. 240 days. 1400 individual 2 ply sheets of TP. 5.8 squares of TP per day. Is that normal?

I know that I am not a woman, and so I don’t use the toilet paper every single time I go to the bathroom. And unlike certain other people who will rename nameless, I have stated how I enjoy “building a rocket” at work, and getting paid for it.

But my question remains: how much toilet paper does a normal, healthy 28 year old male use over the course of a year or so? Am I withing that range? Or am I an outlayer from the bell curve (which is usually the case)? And how much toilet paper do you think that Chuck Norris uses? Or does he just stare at the shit until it gets scared and wipes itself?

I got a forward a long, long time ago (yes, in a galaxy far, far away you damn hypocrites) about a physics professor giving a test to his students with only one question. The question was: Is hell exothermic or endothermic? Support your answer with a proof.

The forward that I originally got stipulated that the entire class failed, citing different laws and making absurd claims, except for one student. This student wrote the following:

First, we postulate that if souls exist, then they must have some mass. If they do, then a mole of souls can also have a mass. So, at what rate are souls moving into hell and at what rate are souls leaving?

I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.

As for souls entering hell, lets look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Some of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to hell. Since, there are more than one of these religions and people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all people and all souls go to hell.

With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in hell to increase exponentially.

Now, we look at the rate of change in volume in hell. Boyle’s Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in hell to stay the same, the ratio of the mass of souls and volume needs to stay constant.

So, if hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter hell, then the temperature and pressure in hell will increase until all hell breaks loose.

Of course, if hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in hell, than the temperature and pressure will drop until hell freezes over.

Of course, the first time I saw it there was a stipulation that the students last girlfriend mentioned that she wouldn’t sleep with him again until hell freezes over, and since that hadn’t happened yet he concluded that Hell must be breaking loose, and is therefore exothermic. And of course the story went on to say that he was the only one to get an A in the entire class. Unfortunately, it’s a crock of shite, but I still liked the science behind it all.

I’m currently house-sitting for my neighbor, who was in Japan and Thailand for the past month and a half. My house-sitting duties include: water plants, get mail, don’t set place on fire.

So far, I’ve been doing pretty good. I haven’t gotten his mail for the past week and a half because he hasn’t had any, and I haven’t been into his house for a while because I had already watered the plants. Anyway, I went in today to put what mail he had inside, and then to water his plants, when I realized that he should have written one more item onto the house-sitting rules and regulations: don’t let apartment fill with fleas.

I’m sorry, but did I say “fill with fleas”?

Yes I did. And I mean that as I walked from the door to the kitchen, probably 50 fleas jumped up onto my feet and legs, freaking me out to say the least. I’ve never seen a flea before, but my neighbors confirmed it (they were in the yard, frantically pulling their dogs away from me). Wow, now I feel bad. But honestly, what is better than getting home from a 6 week long vacation than having a house full of fleas?

You’ll have to excuse me now as I go douse my legs in lighter fluid and set them on fire…

Have you ever had one of those weekends where everything went right? Everything went according to plan, and pretty much exactly as you expected, or even more so?

Well, I did. And to tell the truth, I’m a little sad now. After 4 solid days of continuous entertainment, hanging out with some very awesome people, meeting new and equally cool people, always having something going on (which fits in with my semi-ADD personality quite nicely), etc, being home seems pretty anti-climactic. Kind of like the Eagle’s and their Hell Freezes Over Tour: when you start the concert with Hotel California, what could you possibly do for an encore?

Anyway, here’s the story: last weekend was MARS in Pittsburgh, and I went and played with Duck Xing. I can honestly say that I’ve never played on a team that gives as much thought to drinking and shenanigans as this team, and still manage to win a lot of games. But that is the beauty of this team (or the reason why so many other teams hate us…), the tournament is about fun. It seems that a lot of ultimate players confuse “fun” with “winning” (I’ve been there), and this actually makes the game less fun for not only the other team, but also for the players on the same team. With Duck Xing, even the games that we lost were worth playing again and again, because everyone on our team enjoyed them. Yes, even when we were losing, half drunk, vomiting, hung-over, and dehydrated, we still had people hucking from the sidelines and calling “up” to fool the teams into chasing the wrong disc. We still had a dodgeball point, and the amazing “flying wedge” offense that resulted in Seth getting a flying judo chop to the crotchal area (ie, his nuts). We still played the 1-2-2-2 zone for the first time in ultimate history (*this may be an exageration. Then again, it may not). We still called a time-out for a “rally-gun”. In other words, we had fun.

Anywho, back to the point at hand. The shenanigans were awesome. We put on an incredible fireworks show for the whole tournament. We played dodgeball, kickball, bocce, horseshoes, lawn darts, and multiple other games that could only be described as “Calvinball”. We took on and beat all comers in boat races. We had a dance party in the rafters. We played Ro-Sham-Make Out. We learned the true meaning of a “Turkish Massage”. We heard/told a number of jokes related to Jesus, ducks, dead babies, 8 year olds, deer, fish, any number of other woodlands creatures, and more. Our campsite had it’s own bleachers. We played Whack-A-Mole in and outside of the pool. We went to a hotel and swam in their pool even though we weren’t staying there.

And that is only the stuff that I remember (true, I didn’t black out like I did at the alumni game, but I’m sure that I missed some of the fun that went on just by nature of only being one person).

If any other Duck Xingers read this, and want to send in pictures that will be posted (and quite possibly ridiculed), you know how to get in touch with me.

ps-sleeping in my own bed, without drinking before going to sleep and for more than 5 hours was amazing