Thursday, January 31, 2008


As most of you know, I have an undying love for video games and dinosaurs. Therefore, years ago when I saw Turok 64 on the shelves of Target, I was instantly sold. Well, not instantly actually.

Here is a quick synopsis of the storyline of Turok 64: You're an Indian who is in the past, but is ALSO in the future. At the same time. I don't know how they sucked me into believing that, but I was eight years old at the time.  You're in the past to kill another Indian, but the game doesn't give you a reason why. He didn't kill your family, he isn't attempting to rise to power in any way, he doesn't do anything bad at all. He just lives Indian life, and probley smokes hookah all day.

On the way to kill him, you also slaughter hordes of dinosaurs. Again, for no reason. At all. Hell, it's not even in self defense. You hear a T-Rex roar on the other side of the continent, run over, and stick your sword in his butt. Then you treck ALL the way back to the other coast and start chasing after your Native American rival again.

Eventually you get to some tower in the middle of the jungle, fight a giant praying mantis, and kill the Indian at the top. With a crossbow, for some reason. You use semi-automatic firearms throughout the entire game, but when you fight your rival you have to use a crossbow. Not just any crossbow either. This was a Future-Past Crossbow.

Turok came out for the 360 today, and my work had too few copies for me to check out. Boo hoo; I suppose I have to wait. I. the meantime, I guess I'm going to sell my body in an attempt to buy a Wii before SSBB come out.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Foreign language

Ever since Sophomore year, I have had a lack of enthusiasm for school. I haven't been able to do my homework, I haven't been able to pay attention in class, and I have definitely not been able to respect many of the teachers that are employed that are often in charge of leading the classrooms. Although I was hoping the teachers would get better as I made the slow and steady trek through high school, it turns out most of them are the same.

If you want to talk about a terrible school department, ask me about Spanish. I took Spanish 1 in my Sophomore year, and honestly consider it the worst mistake I have ever made. Actually, the first two weeks of class weren't that bad. We had a decent teacher who knew what she was doing. Then, out of the blue, she decided to retire. Two weeks into the semester and she decides to retire. Of course, the Craven Country School System, being the incompetent people they are, had no idea what to do.

Two days later we have a new teacher. Her name is Mrs. Nogalam, and she seems to be a decent lady. "Como esta!" she greets the class, as if we're some sort of spanish natives. She is returned with silence, mainly due to the fact that no one had any clue what she said said. "¿Que'tal?" she inquired; only to be met with blank stares and questioning faces from her students.

That was when it hit me. The Craven County School Board hired a Columbian woman who had no idea how to speak English. She had no clue how to speak English, and we had no clue how to speak Spanish. What an awesome learning environment.

She passes out notebooks and tells us "Work please." No instructions, just "Work please." "Please tell me this is a joke God."  I had to suffer through her class for the next 16 weeks of my life. I finished my workbook, the one that is supposed to take all semester, in three days. I figured she wouldn't actually check them, so I just rewrote the question in the answer blank. Hell, I my friend Whitey wrote the word "Pero-gato" in every answer blank in the book and finished in three hours. For those of you who don't know, this means "Dog-cat". We both got 100's.

Over the course of the class a few interesting things happened. A black kid in my class spilled lemonade on the floor, and she tried to suspend him for urinating in her class. We tried to tell her it was lemonade, but she didn't listen.

I had gotten to class early one day, so it was just myself and her in the class. I say "Buenos dias" and go to sit down when I hear trampling feet behind me. A 6'x" black kid runs into the classroom, leaps all the way to the  ceiling, screams "KOBE!!!!!" at the top of his lungs, and karate chops a pinata, hanging over the desk she is sitting at, in half. It explodes and candy rains down from the heavens as if we're in some sort of sugar carrying El Nino. It lands all over her, myself, and practically every other square inch of the classroom. The kid falls to the ground, grabs a piece of candy, and bolts out the door. I have never seen this kid again but, to this day, he is my hero.

In retrospect, I actually had quite a few funny moments in the class. I also didn't have to do any work at all. Too bad I didn't learn anything and have to suffer for it now. I have Mrs. Drofmom this semester, and she honestly isn't that bad.

Monday, January 28, 2008


I'll admit it. I'm a pretty shallow guy. Go ahead and scold me for it, for frankly I don't care too much. It's not like it's something I can help. I sub-consciously like good-looking people more than others. You probably do it as well, even if you haven't realized it to the extent I have.

Soon, to sound as cliche as possible, I'm going to be heading out into the real world. I'm meeting a lot of new "virtual friends" (I am awesome) who will be going to school with me next year, and I can already tell that this is going to be a problem. I get AIM messages from people that have found my name through Facebook, and look them up to see what they look like before even responding to their hello. Here is how a typical conversation goes with someone I don't find to my interest.

XxFaTbItCh69xX: Hey! I saw you on Facebook and you seem like a really interesting person. I'd really love to talk to you and find out more about you, as well as your plans for next year.
Me: Hello. (I then realize I accidentally responded before the necessary inspection, and go to search for them on Facebook. I realize my mistake in responding).
XxFaTbItCh69xX: What's up?
Me: Nothing much, I was just printing off some pictures of you.
XxFaTbItCh69xX has signed off at 11:32:45.


XxFaTbItCh69xX: Hey! I saw you on Facebook and you seem like a really interesting person. I'd really love to talk to you and find out more about you, as well as your plans for next year.
Me: (No response)
XxFaTbItCh69xX: What's up? You there?
Me: (No response)
XxFaTbItCh69xX: HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY! Where are you! I really want to talk!
Me: (About fifteen minutes after her first message) Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to leave my AIM on. You won't believe it. I just finished my sculpture of my level 70, Orc Shaman.  I made it out of toothpicks, took me two years.
XxFaTbItCh69xX has signed off at 11:32:45.

I think that I just need to watch Shallow Hal a few times and let the morals sink in.


So I was sitting at lunch a while back with Kelsey, Macbook, Emily, Bridges, and Philo when I decided to take a look at the T.V. overhead that was displaying glamor shots of all the people who went to Prom. All the sudden, I see a whale appear on the screen.

I think "Wow, If I looked that, I would never leave the house." Being around friends, I tried to express my opinions by pointing at the screen and stating, "I don't understand why someone like that would spend a couple of hundred dollars trying to look good, when they're still going to look awful." This only elicited responses such as "You're an awful person" and "You still want to look good for Prom, even if you're ugly".

I'm talking about the girls who aren't made out of sugar, spice, and everything nice. The ones I'm talking about are made out of thalidomide, gallons of alcohol, and bad genes.

I guess I'm just against the whole prom thing in general, really.


So for some odd reason, I have decided to start a blog.

Now I know that any of my friends reading this are going to say "Isn't Kane always the one who relentlessly makes fun of bloggers?" Well... yes. I am.

So yeah. That's about it. Read on if you want, but you'll more than likely be bored out of your mind.