It's not delivery, it's TAKING FOR FUCKING EVER.

Pizza Luce. Selby Avenue. St. Paul, Minn. Where the beer is cold, the people are friendly and the waiter, who looks strikingly like the guitar player for Incubus, takes 15 minutes to give you refills and an hour to give you two small pizzas.

One hour. Two small pizzas.

That's one small pizza per half hour.

That's one small half of a small pizza per quarter hour.

For ease, I've made the following pie chart. It's functional, and shaped like the whole pizza that took an hour to get to my whole face.



















Had he not been an incredible replica of Mike Einziger, I might've been more pissed. Oh wait, I was pissed.




















These Incubus references working for anyone?

-eb

My heart is on fire

Seriously.

I was going to go on a lengthy tirade about how the U.S. education system is nothing more than an attempt for the state providing said education to receive federal funding, but I can't concentrate on anything else besides the wretched pain that my heart is experiencing.

I am literally pouring everything that could even be considered edible into my mouth so my stomach has something to process besides my own life organs.

Oh yes. All of those items listed have been shoveled down my gullet in the past three hours. I don't know which one of them caused the initial outbreak of lava to course up my esophagus, but I know that none of those items have helped to put an end to my suffering.

If you females think you have it rough by stretching your crotch for child deliverance, I suggest you take a walk in my shoes and experience what heart erosion truly feels like. I guarantee you'll be wishing you could have chosen labor over the grueling death my aorta is currently going through.

(I'm very aware as to how much trouble this picture will get me in.)

I seriously need an IV of Tums at all times to maintain a decent life.

Also, congratulations to our three winners. Your names escape me, but I believe they are featured somewhere in this update along with your likeness. Thanks for playing.

-ab

My thermostat is r-worded

My apartment doesn't have a thermostat. Instead, it has a fan. A fan that blows hot air or cold air ceaselessly unless we adjust the mystical "ON/OFF SWITCH."

Just so everyone knows the difference. Here's how a normal thermostat works:

And here's how the thermostat works in my apartment:

When I consider why anyone building any sort of modern living quarters would not include a self-monitoring temperature system, the only answer I can think of is honest stupidity. 

As you can see by this scientific Venn diagram, at the intersection of heat, the constant flow of hot air and the knowledge that Hamline just straight up did not want to properly install a temperature monitoring system is me being pissed off. 

So while I'm sweating my dick off in bed, you guys are probably wondering: BUT ERIK WHAT ABOUT KIDS IN CHINA WHO DON'T EVEN HAVE HEATING LET ALONE CLEAN WATER EVERY DAY TO BATHE AND DRINK?!

To which I respond: That is just inaccurate, probably racist, and also I don't care. 

-eb

My walk to school

Yes. You are correct. Nothing significant has happened to me in the past two days that allotted enough material to construct a witty and insightful blog post. (NASA's press conference about aliens isn't until tomorrow, goddamnit.) So you get to read about my 7 minute walk to school. 

I seriously hate walking to school, specifically in the winter. It's fucking freezing, the sun is always in my eyes, the wind is always blowing (gusts do not exist when you live in a wind tunnel), I hit every fucking red light ever created ever, and the cold is not enough to scare away the bums.

I know what you're thinking: "Andrew. You always wear shorts, tissue paper is thicker than your jacket, which is the only article in your winter ensemble, you refuse to take the skyway, and you live in fucking Minnesota. You don't reserve the right to complain; you bring this upon yourself. If you want to get warmer, start dressing for the season."

My response to that: "No."

Is this a giant middle finger to our fans? Maybe. Erik will probably hate this post. But I spent three hours coloring a picture for you to look at. Seriously. Three hours. All for you. Because I heart the readers.

(Click for a MUCH larger version)

Contest: Take a screenshot of this picture as your desktop background, send it to theblourg@gmail.com, and win a chance to have your name featured in my next blog update. How exciting.

-ab