MORE LIKE RICHMOND INTERNATIONAL UNFAIRPORT

THE ABOVE PICTURE IS NOT PHOTOSHOPPED.

At the time of this writing I am sitting, waiting for my flight at Richmond International Airport, more commonly known as "RIA" or "hell". I hate the airport for many reasons, not the least of which it shares the whole "this is cheap...just fucking kidding" element that the zoo has. For instance, entrance to the zoo is free, but if you would like to buy a MAP (that's right, BUY a MAP, the shit most other places shove in your face for free), it's gonna cost you an arm and a leg ($1) and your firstborn son to park ($20) if you want to stay there for over 3 minutes. Don't even get me started on trying to buy food or gifts at the zoo, that doesn't exist for me.

Imagine all that, only you're getting on a vehicle piloted by a guy who hates his job that will probably crash and you spent 600 dollars for the pleasure of getting your anal cavity searched for drugs before you even stepped on the vessel of death they call a "plane".

I'M NOT EVEN GETTING STARTED YET.

That would all be fine, because they let you know beforehand about everything you're paying for, and only complete idiot tools like me fly anywhere now, so I deserve it. What really blows is everything they don't tell you you have to suffer at the airport, which I have enumerated below (with the costs):

1) If you want to carry anything with you, it will cost you 15 american dollars. We had two bags.

RUNNING TOTAL: $30

That'll teach me to bring clothes when I'm going somewhere.

2) You have to get to the airport approximately one week before your plane arrives, so you have to buy something to drink in the main seating area. Plus, you're already tired and pissed because you hate flying and yourself, so it has to be something delicious. There's either 40 Caribou coffees or Starbucks at any given airport (depending on which CEO is blowing the head of management), so you need to stay awake before they murder you for being a terrorist.

I don't care if that makes sense.

2 small (!!!!) coffees: $9.05

RUNNING TOTAL: $39.05

3) Security blows. No one is a bad person in the world, and there is science to prove this fact. I am a stupid college student, there is no reason for me to even walk through a metal detector. Now Richmond is actually kinda good in this respect, since they are much friendlier than Dulles (turn around and drop your pants), the people are nice when they scan your ID with a blacklight, when they mark up your boarding pass, when they yell at you for having a cell phone (yeah why the fuck would you have a cell phone, idiot), and then make you walk through the damn thing fourteen times while they throw your girlfriend in the cube of interrogation for "random selection". MY ASS. SHE'S HOT, YOU SICK OLD MAN. Pervert.

RUNNING TOTAL: $39.05, my dignity, my girlfriend's right to privacy (as granted in the Constitution of the United States of America).

4) Food. Food. Food. I used to like eating at the airpoort (yeah, not a typo) because I didn't have to pay for anything, and the fact that the mini T.G.I. Fridays tasted like chicken ass didn't matter a shit. So there's one place to eat, and they have no food. Awesome. There's a bar next to it, and their menu is, SHOCKER, the same as the resturant next door. When we order food, the waitress GOES NEXT DOOR AND GETS THE FOOD FROM THAT RESTURANT. HOLY SHIT. We almost ordered some alcohol, but there was no price and we didn't wanna get shafted.

Oops, too late. You ordered something already. Shaft inc.

We got a "turkey sandwich" and a "chipotle wrap". What this was in actuality was two pieces of toast with some cheese(?) inbetween and a bag of chips. The wrap had turket and lettuce in the middle, no chipotle anything, and a kraft packet of ranch dressing on the side.

Normally, two thumbs up. You wanna be lazy with your food, that's fine. I eat on campus, and the people who serve me food on a daily basis hate their job, hate me, and hate themselves, so I'm used to it. This is where things get out of control, though.

Tab: $17.34. What...the fuck..was I thinking. There's a reason the price was half covered-up on their ghetto ass menus. Not to mention the one barmaid who was assigned to all two dozen patrons (and was so old she was probably fucked by a dinosaur) didn't come get our check until I practically stood up and asked her if I had to pay. She then didn't take my credit card until I did it again, but...shocker, again...had time to play grab-ass with some kids sitting next to us. I gave her a baller 3 dollar tip, too. I'm Barack Jesus F. Kennedy Christ.

RUNNING TOTAL: $59.39

5) This is where shit gets real. I was pissed, but up until now I had pretty much brought all of this upon myself by being retarded and flying. I was going to try and salvage the situation by getting some candy to drown my fat ass sorrows away, so I went to pick up some Swedish Fish from the Newstand/Magazine stand/Candy Shop/Adult Film Store across from the bar. There was no price tag, so I assumed they were free. The fat bitch at the front charged me 3.75 for them, though. I could just care less at this point, and I figured if three seventy five could erase all the bad memories , it would be worth it. Lo and behold, when I opened the bag and devoured the first fish, it was stale and tasteless. Okay, that was the first one, fine. I tried another. And another. And another. All these fucking fish were stale. I kept thinking the next one wouldn't be, but I kept on getting disappointed.

That's right. This goddamn airport is so bad it successfully corrupted the one holy and pure thing in the entire universe.

RUNNING TOTAL: $63.14, my faith in a higher power.

I AM BEYOND FURIOUS RIGHT NOW. THE WOMAN JUST ANNOUNCED OUR FLIGHT IS DELAYED.

So.

There is one good thing that could come of all this. We are going to Atlanta for a crossover onto another plane that will take us into the anus of the United States (St. Louis). If I am to believe the rap songs I cherish so dearly, the moment we arrive in the duurty souff we will be greeted Lil Jon, the Eastside boys, and all the alcohol and partying we could ever want. I think that this might make us break even.

I will report from Atlanta sometime in the next four hours, hopefully. Maybe we'll just crash and get this over with.

I just remembered I have a test on tuesday.

Oh yeah, wanna know what I'm going to St. Louis for? My grandfather's funeral.

This is the best day ever.

The McTipDrill

The preview is right below this post. But fuck the teasing, it's time for you to meet the McTipDrill.

Measurements:

• 5.3+5.3+5.0=15.6 oz
• 390+390+360=1140 calories
• 19+19+16=54 g of fat
• 920+920+830=2670 mg of sodium

The first, second, and third things that you should know about this monstrous meal are as follows:

• This thing will kill you,
• this thing will kill your children, and the worst one,
• this thing won't feel remorse.

The sandwich itself was alright. I thought the McGangBang (McGB) was better than the McTipDrill (McTD), but if this wasn't all that much worse. My main problem with this sandwich was that there wasn't the same chicken and beef flavor that you get with the McGB. There was too much flavorless beef and not nearly enough slightly seasoned chicken patty. Not much more to say because the GB and the TD are pretty much the same thing and are very good.

Rating: 4/5 - tastes good, makes you want to die.

The McTipDrill

Allow me to introduce you to the McTipDrill:

Inspired by the McGangBang, this monstrosity of a burger was constructed out of a McChicken and not one, but two McDoubles. This six bunned heart-attack of a meal has reached otherworldly levels of fast food perfection and is probably the most unhealthy thing on the planet that you can eat for the low price of $3 (+ tax). However, side-effects of the burger may include the itis, projectile vomit, and bowel movements too horrid to be described on such a modest blog.

Here's a layer-by-layer breakdown of the burger in all of its 3000 calorie glory:

bun,

cheese slice,

beef patty,

bun #2,

cheese slice #2,

beef patty #2,

bun #3,

lettuce (for your health),

chicken patty,

bun #4,

fancy ketchup,

cheese slice #3,

beef patty #3,

bun #5,

cheese slice #4,

beef patty #4,

bun #6.

Your favorite neighborhood bully will be posting his thoughts on the burger soon. (I was too scared to even touch the damn thing). So check back with us later to find out the answer to the question on everyone's mind: Did he hate it or love it? Is he gonna shine or did his heart stop?

Freed Gucci Mane

(Don't mind the white hands.)

I know I'm about a week late, but...

GUCCI MANE IS FREE. GUCCI MANE IS FREE. GUCCI MANE IS FREE. You have no idea how excited I was to hear this news. Of course, he threw a party and had a concert the day he got out, and he was in the studio within hours of that ending, and has pretty much been in the studio, walking to the studio, or thinking about when he's going to the studio for the past week. There's a billion hip-hop blogs talking about the facts behind his release, so if you want that shit, go read those blogs. Right now, I'm about to make this post all about me.

Here's some of what I was doing while Gucci Mane was in jail.

Listening habits (in the past 6 months):

Artists -

Gucci Mane - 863 listens

Shawty Lo - 268

T-Pain - 259

Yo Gotti - 390

OJ Da Juiceman - 307

Plies - 144

Gorilla Zoe - 132

Lil Wayne - 100

Rocko - 88

Young Jeezy - 81

J-Money - 70

Young Dro & Yung LA - 68

I'm not a very diverse music listener, but I am changing slowly. Anyway, let's go to the top 500 tracks.

Let's not.

In my top 50 songs in the past 6 months, Gucci Mane appears in 19 of them. Yo Gotti appears in less than that (about 10 less).

I could go on and on with this statistical shit, but I won't. All I wanted to show is that even though I said Yo Gotti was going to be my favorite rapper until Gucci Mane got out, Gucci Mane continued to release mixtapes, and so it's like he was never gone. I think it might have been all for hype - maybe like a hoax to get his buzz up. We'll just have to see, won't we? Maybe I'll blog about it.

*To tell the truth, I really just wrote this blog so I could put the terrible picture up.

What a WACK DAY

Saturday, March 7th, 2009 -

I wake up at about 10am feeling mad useless. It's time to go back to Northern Virginia today (read the previous post to see how my fellow blogger and myself both feel about NOVA) and I have about an hour to get everything packed away. It's all good, the last night was great, especially since the Cavs lost (LeBron James missed a dunk and I went crazy), whatever, no reason to complain. My friend and I headed back north, and the car ride consisted of listening to metal and DMX and cursing under our breaths everytime we passed a stupid fuckin Cracker Barrel. We go to McDonald's and we get food. We go back to my friend's house and he wants to watch MTV Jams, and I couldn't complain. Our new favorite rapper, OJ Da Juiceman, has a new video and about 3 minutes after I said "What if OJ Da Juiceman's new video comes on?", it did. Hell yeah. So We go to a thrift store to go get some hats and they're all tight as shit. He takes me home and drops me off and I unload all my shit into the room. I'm home, and it kinda sucks.

So I'm trying to leave. Unfortunately, I have no car, so I have to borrow my dad's car. I ask him to borrow it because I need to go to Big Lots and get some 60 cent energy drinks to sip upon during the break (I've already run out, and it's Tuesday). He says fine, why don't you get some Chinese food while you're at it, and so I go.

This is where shit gets real real. REAL real.

I'll skip the purchase, because there's nothing special. I come out and head over to the car. Before I can make it to the driver's seat, some 14 or 15 year old lookin girl comes up to me. This is what happened after she walked up to me.

-------

Her: "Hey, there's a party at my house tonight and I'll be home alone after that."

I wanted to shit myself, but that would have been embarassing and I would have had to buy clothes to wear on the ride home.

Me: "Oh, that's cool."

Her: "It's in [neighborhood]."

I didn't hear her.

Me: "What?"

Her: "It's in [neighborhood]. [Address]."

This is when I realized something that I'll mention in a second. I had to leave, and I had to leave at that moment.

Me: "Oh, ok, I know where that is, maybe I'll stop by. Thanks."

-------

What I realized is that the address she gave was exactly five houses from where I lived as a child. That might not be a coincidence, but it was really gross to me seeing as how this child wanted an older dude to show up to a party where there would probably be enough alcohol and chips for me to get tipsy and almost full. It's possible that she expected that this dude with the college T-shirt would just automatically bring a 24 pack of Keystone Light, but that never crossed my mind. Anyway, all the memories of my childhood in that neighborhood went through my head and I shook my head and got in the driver's seat, and drove away as fast as possible. I was so shaken up that I forgot to capitalize on this:

because of course, there's no KFC within 8 miles of my damn house. Fuck my life.

nova is the worst

Since antiquity, humans have speculated as to the nature of the underworld, the morbid abyss to which evil souls are condemned to sit for eternity and repent for their sins. The very thought of Hell, the vast unknown, and torture that extends beyond time and space has inspired crushing fear in ordered societies throughout history. Truly, though, the question has always been "what", not "why".

Mankind, look no further. I shall here reveal to you once and for all the true face of Hell.








I can list maybe one or two good things about being home.

1) I get to listen to good talk radio live.

2) I don't pay for food.

That second one shouldn't even count, since whenever I don't pay for food I have to spend four-and-a-half hours out with my family I could be doing something more productive, like staring at the wall.
Really, NovA is the greater of two evils. Williamsburg is plagued by frat boys who drink Natty Light and take advantage of Freshmen girls. NovA is plagued by aging frat boys who drink Red Wine and take advantage of their ugly girlfriends. The most pronounced difference really is that the ones at NovA all think that they went to Harvard University because they hold a 9-5 in Reston, and as such carry an air of swagger around with their Brooks Brothers that makes me want to throw up all over my long-sleeved black Merdona shirt I got at target for less than a bag of popcorn at Reston Town Center (Watchmen is good, especially if you like glowing cancerous penis).

What really distinguishes Northern Virginia is that 99% of the people have the Apple mentality: you should refurnish your house to match your iPod. These guys land a job doing god knows what (if they have to wear a suit to work, you will know, because they will keep it on all day so that you know they are important), they get a Blackberry or some analogous contraption and then they think they're Bill Gates and Paris Hilton combined. Got hair? Slick it back. Don't play sports? Buy $500 golf clubs. Don't play golf? Buy $1000 golf clubs. Burn your T-Shirts, buy polos, buy sunglasses worth as much as a developing country, get the khakis, get designer jeans, and only eat at Chipotle.

Speaking of Apple, after trying for four months to resurrect my iPod I got 5 years ago, I called the time of death and went to the Apple store in Tysons to buy a new iPod. I should have just put a nail gun to my balls and pulled the trigger, because it would have been almost as painful and cost me about $200 less. In my admittedly modest recollection, stores traditionally operate in this fashion:

- You look for what you want. If you can't find it, you ask someone.

- When you find it, you pick it up and bring it to the cashier.

- The cashier facilitates an exchance in which your cash is traded for their their goods in an amount quoted prior to your meeting via a price tag.

- Get the hell out.

Such is not the case with the Apple store. It turns out that the Apple store is not run like traditional establishments, an astonishing parallel to their products, since neither works worth a damn.

Something like this has gone down before every visit I've had to the Apple store (which total one):

- Before you enter the store, drop to your knees and pray there's no one in there that recognizes you.

- Enter the store, find object you need.

- Attempt to pick it up.

- It's locked to the stand, dumbass.

- Try and find a box below the stand with the object you need.

- There is only air below the stand. You look like a tool.

- Look for a ticket for the object you need behind the price tag.

- Nope, there's just a price tag there, and you removed it. Everyone's looking at you.

- Don't put it back, it's too late. Just walk away.

- Swallow your pride and ask someone for help.

- Realize that they (obviously) have all of their iPods behind the checkout counter, and you should get in line.

- Talk to some soccer mom about how much this system sucks, and be ignored the second you drop a curse word.

- Some guy with the satellite PDA from Doom III flanks you and asks if you're there to check out, even though you have nothing.

- Tell him you want an iPod.

- He pulls you out of line in pedophile fashion and begins to offer you one of four million accessories/warrantees/sexual favors.

- Five minutes later he produces a plastic tube and charges you $206.45 for it. You pray there is an iPod inside, but at this point you could care less.

- Get the hell out.

This is really a metaphor for what home is to me. Everything is nicer, but at a terrible cost. People expect you to do things you don't want to do, because you're used to lazying about in your dorm room all day. They act offended when you sleep until 11 a.m. because they have to work.

When I go out, I am reminded of why I stay inside. Everyone has the "I'm the shit" aura. They want you to see the Starbucks. They want you to see their Sushi lunch. They want you to verify their empty existence, as if they are trying to say "Yeah, look, you thought I was stupid, but I made it." I take such intense pleasure in ignoring them. When I see in my periphery that they are looking at me, begging for a moment of recognition, it's not even scorn, it's pity.

At college, the douches are at least confined to certain quarters, and like a defensively dangerous animal, they will leave you alone if you leave them alone. Women will get drunk and forfeit their principles, claiming it was nothing in an attempt to recover their self-esteem. The men will laugh, and add another tick to their walls. The wonderful thing about this is that it is so remarkably simple to remove yourself from this tragic opera. Surely there is no more apt definition of "Hell" than when the things you despise are forced upon you.

My girlfriend is overseas having the time of her life. I am sitting at home, too embarrassed to go out with my family, stricken with pneumonia, shamefully listening to my new iPod. I've gained 10 lbs of pure fat. Every time I crack my neck, I pray that this is the one where I push it too far and sever my neck bone. The best time I've had so far on this break is when I was in the doctor's office and I could lie down by myself on the patient bed an enjoy 5 minutes of sweet silence. After it was over, I was approached by a man more successful than I will ever be who told me a violent bacteria is attacking my right lung, which is why it feels like I've been punched in the chest eight hours of every day.

Thank goodness, I reply. At least someone's having a good time.

Why people hate going to class...

No, it's not because you'd rather wake up at 2 in the afternoon. It's not even because you hate learning and would rather take Everclear to the face until you vomit yourself inside-out. It's because there's so many weird ass motherfuckers that do so much weird shit that you find yourself clenching your fists everytime somebody acts a damn fool. I have found four basic qualities of people that personally make me upset, and I assume at least one of those makes you want to treat their face like a baked potato. Just split it open and add all the fixins. Then you be Big Lurch and you feast on that shit until the cops detain you.

1) Why you talk so quiet but you stay answerin questions? Can't nobody hear yo ass. You sit in the front and center of the class. That's fine. You answer questions that the teacher asks without making unnecessary comments, and you don't ask the dumbest questions known to man. More power to you. But when you do talk, for some reason, you think that you and the teacher are talking and there's about 150 sleeping, light-sleeping babies around. Whispering is an understatement. And let's hope that 3/4 of the class is sitting behind you and you have your back to everybody, so nobody can hear ANYTHING you're saying. Most of the time, I'm chilling in the back corner (I'll get to why it isn't all the time later), and so you are speaking so that I cannot hear A SINGLE....WORD...THAT YOU...ARE SAYING. So don't do it. Speak like there's people trying to hear whatever you have to say, because - newsflash - THERE ARE. Nobody likes it when you're talking like there's a tiger trying to listen in to your conversation.

2) Why you answerin questions, but you just talkin to yoself? Then yo ass is wrong, lookin all dumb and shit. You're sitting in class and your teacher asks a question. Then you hear a bunch of people kinda mumble the answer, say it half-assedly, nothing special. But then the teacher asks a rhetorical question, and you hear a whisper come from right next to you. "The inverse square law." But everybody knew that. Nobody needed you to say anything at all. But you did. Not loud enough for the asker to hear, but loud enough for you to make me wonder why you answered. I can't even be funny about this. Just don't do it while I'm around, because you might hear me mumble something that rhymes with 'docksucker' right in your face, bitch.

3) Why you noddin yo head every 3 seconds like you interviewin Peyton Manning at halftime? Tell me that. You're looking in front of you trying to pay attention to the teacher, maybe. Just pretending you're taking a class called Trapanomics 394, and your teacher is lecturing. "As referenced in many Shawty Lo, Gucci Mane, and Yo Gotti songs..." [head nods] "...among many others..." [rapid head nods] "...a brick of cocaine priced at $17, 500 is considered to be a good starting point for price." Then another head nod or two, or seven. OK, the teacher knows you're paying attention, but there's about 25 people who are on Facebook, e-mail, or their favorite blog, so you're not making him or her that much happier. So stop making it all about you, sit back, and listen, or don't, just do you in your own world.

4) This one pisses me off the least, but for the shortest amount of time. This is the classic late afternoon on a hot, hazy, humid summer day thunderstorm of anger. There's no assigned seats, but if you're sitting in a somewhat crowded class, you find a seat and within about three weeks, everybody knows where they're going to sit for the rest of the semester, more or less. So when I walk in to my 9AM class (already groggy and pissed off) at 8:59 and you're in the seat that I'm ready to pass out in, you got me riled up ready to throw a bitch right out the window. But I won't care about 5 minutes later. You're lucky.

So just quit acting weird in class. There's no reason for that. Sit down and shut up, or answer questions that are supposed to be answered. Go ahead and make comments or answer questions, but remember that we don't all have bionic ears, no matter what you might think. Speaking at a normal tone isn't going to hurt us.

Feel free to leave a comment about what other things piss you off in class, student, teacher, or whatever else.