Eminem would be proud.

Props if you understand the title.


Hey. So remember when I said I was converting this into a video blog? Well enough of you told me to keep this blog alive so I will. However, I'll be teaming up with my numbskull friends to make some sketch comedy and other video shtuffy-stuff. Be fearful.


During the short duration of my break, I found the absence of blogging to be frustrating and...boring. Turns out I have a secret love for embarrassing my family via blogging. I also miss all the constructive criticism from anonymous people (wow, that was an awful attempt at sarcasm. Eh, I'm rusty), and the two people in Denmark who read this. Much love. Don't assume I'm getting soft on you guys though; I assure you I'm still a dry, calloused, evil person.

Kiss me.

Well dudes and dudettes, I have to finish cleaning my basement, since somebody figured salsa would look much better caked to the floor, rather than in a bottle. WHY NATHANIEL? WHY? I suppose its ultimately my fault for having a party. I apologize for the abruptness of this post, but I will further re-ignite our love's fire tomorrow.

Today's Random Song Pick: Pinch Me - Bare Naked Ladies.

Heartbreaking News. Not Really.

Today marks the end of my blog. Sort of.

Haha. My giant ego is hoping that thousands of women around the world are now weeping hysterically. Wishful thinking I suppose.

To the three people that actually read my blog, you shant worry. I am officially converting my blog into a vlog (video-log). I have two main reasons for doing this.

1. A lot of people have told me my writing is sub-par. That's actually not a reason; just a chance for me to say: HOP OFF. The reason is that I feel I can better express myself with some sexy face time.

2. I'm a terribly self-absorbed narcissist and love to watch myself.

However, I might keep this blog if enough people want me to, or if you think the vlog idea is stupid.

Question Time #2

Here are some more unanswerable questions:

1. Why can't women give good directions? We live in a technologically advanced age, why can't they simply just give us an address so we can actually use our GPS? Why do girl directions always sound like,  "okay so you know where that red thingy is by the highway? Yeah you're gonna go past that like 5 miles and then you're gonna see a homeless man selling crack. Tip him five dollars and he'll point you towards my house". The best part is, you'll be completely lost later, and you'll call them for help, but when they pick up there is just a chorus of squirrelly laughter because she and her friends were laughing about Taylor Lautner's abs.

Somewhere, a girl is crying.

2. What happened to rock music? Is there no hope? I know our local rock stations kind of stink, but modern rock artists certainly are not helping. C'mon guys. Don't let my favorite genre go to ruins.

3. Who cares about the speed of light, what is the speed of dark? Actually, no just kidding. I hate when people ask that question, thinking they've surely upset the balance of the universe with their witty questioneering. Darkness is the absence of light, in other words: exactly the opposite. So the answer is the same speed as light*.

4. Why can't term papers edit themselves? It's bloody 2010 for poop's sake.

5. Why do people repeat the exact same thing to you right after you say it to them? I can understand general things like, "sup man", but it really bothers me when I spend an entire day thinking of an absolutely ingenious comment to tell somebody. For example, If I say: "Hey bra, what's crackin?", would you say: "Hey bra, what's crackin?" right back? I hope not. If you do, I have been known to foam at the mouth.

*If for some insane reason my theory is wrong, please buy me a boat so I can row out to an island and live there, crying till the end of my days.

-Con 

Your Word Is as Good as Poop.

So remember last week when I said I'd do a thousand things and be a better blogger? Do you remember it happening? Of course not. I'm a dirty liar. Sorry about that. Usually, I'd be able to sleep quite toasty and at an ease of mind knowing that. That is, until someone told me how bad I really am when it comes to lying.

Hmm.

My first reaction was to purposefully take a sip of water only to spit it out violently in exasperated protest (we were having lunch). How could that be bad?, I thought. It's my blog, I DO WHAT I WANT. Who cares if I say something and not do it? Nobody thats who. At this point I was feeling pretty smug about my argument, and my classic look of condescension was surmounting my face:

slightly scruffy, but not out of reason.

Yes. I had brought my petty, lunch-date fool to his knees. I was victorious. Before we went our separate ways, this jester pulled quite the parthian shot as he was climbing into his car. I will never forget what he said:

"Connor, I dare you to try to not lie once tomorrow. You won't be able to do it."

Okay. Challenge accepted. Punk. I love my close friends, and I respect him... but he couldn't stop this, I'm as clean as a whistle.

Oh boy.

My lie-free streak lasted a whopping five minutes into the next morning. My mom had asked me if I did my homework last night. I said yes, knowing in instant that word squeaked out of my pre-pubescent vocal chords, that I had already failed. Of course, I only rationalized that this must be a fluke in the system; I was better than this. With purpose in my footsteps I ran out the door and into my car, seeping with paranoia at the thought of telling another lie. Not a minute later, my phone rang. Somebody was wondering if I had plans for that night. This guy didn't even have a chance: I replied yes and promptly said the "sorry bro maybe next time" line. A second later I hit the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. I sat there and collected my thoughts. A grandma honked at me. LAY OFF GRAMS. As I sat there with my car idling, and cars whizzing by, it hit me. I am a liar, through and through. Even though I didn't really know that guy who called me very well, I didn't even give him the benefit of the doubt... just a lie. The longer I sat there, the more instances I could recall where I have totally lied to my friends and family, without a conscious or care.

I suddenly felt very sick. The kind of dull pain that rises from your bowels and into your chest, and seems to drag your heart down. I was just fortunate to have people around me that still trust me after all of my lies and omissions. I'm sorry this post just got all heavy on you. But since then, I have tried to quit my addiction to lying, and so far: It's been eye opening. If you get anything out of this post tonight, just know that lying is a poison. It digs into you every-time you coverup and make false excuses. It feeds off you. If you are a liar, then please, let's try to quit the habit together. I wish I was talking about cocaine.. 

Well. Now that you are officially sad/weirded out, watch this Jim Carey video. Its hard not to like this guy: Karate Instructor

Goodnight everyone.

Boo!

What kind of sick person could do this to me? My heart is curled into a pulpy, flopping mess on the floor; my mind minced into brew. I am lost beyond all realms of human emotion, my soul roaming in a wasteland of bitter nothingness. My eyes have become scaled with ignorance, my fingers no longer fear the roar of fire. My tongue can only taste the sorrow of horrible mutilations molded into its once pink splendor. You wonder what kind of person? No, not a person at all.

Whoa whoa whoa, hey. Guys I'm not emo. I'm only speaking of course, of candy.
Heh.
Your first thought when beginning to read that was probably, "I hate Connor, I hope all of these unfortunate fates really befell him!"
As you continued to peruse my anecdote, your thoughts probably went a little like, "Man, I will feel really bad if I look in the newspaper tomorrow and Connor's corpse is pictured strewn across the highway".
Finally, when you realized that I was actually talking about candy...well honestly you probably left your desk, grabbed ye' olde shotgun, and are now en-route to come murder me personally. In that case my time is limited. Let me explain why I get so emotional about candy.

As a child, Halloween was undoubtably tied with Christmas for my favorite holiday. I didn't enjoy it for the costumes, parties, or scary flicks on AMC; I was in it for the candy. YES. My tubby little legs would prance about the neighborhood, cutting through yards and across the sidewalk to collect as many tasty treats as possible (I didn't jump fences though. No way. I scraped my leg once). As I approached each door, panting from child obesity, my chunky little fingers would play that doorbell like Liberace.

He's a piano player, obviously.

Now I was (and still am) a fine connoisseur of candy. It was only the best of the best for me. One could usually find a line of rejected candies following me home as I tossed them onto the street. In all my years of looting sugary pleasures, not ONCE have I devoured a candy unsatisfactory to my taste-buds. NOT ONCE. Come this Halloween, and I nearly found myself on the brink of death. Death by candy. Now, one could reason my candy discernment skill had become rusty as of recent, and I am to blame. NO. WRONG. People these days disguise the most vile abominations of candy by wrapping them similarly to the sweets we've come to treasure. How dare they. I feel betrayed, candy companies. Why would you ever make banana flavored lemon heads? THEY'RE BOTH YELLOW.

I'm sorry. I almost lost myself there. My only hope, is that you didn't experience the same travesty as I.

-Con

Apology.

Wow. I'm noticing a lot of my recent posts begin with an apology for not posting for several days. That concludes that I am just the worst blogger in history. But you're reading this right now, which means you are the worst blog reader in history. <3 much love.

OKAY. I vaguely remember promising that thursdays would be Tip of The Hat/ Bite of The Thumb Thursdays. I haven't been doing that. This Thursday will fulfill your longing for thumb bites. I promise.

Only Canadians.

Well, even though I feel really guilty for not blogging in a while, I have a goliath of homework waiting in my room. I have a frivolous batch of ideas frothing about in my brain, just waiting for fruition, but sadly I am time-disabled. You can all blame Calculus. Curses.

Sorry ya'll. Tomorrow I will blow your pants off with more alliterations. Stay chill.