There's No Place Like Homepage

So I haven’t written one of these things in a while. Some of you out there are thinking to yourselves that this is because I’ve finally decided to buckle down on school work and stop spending all of my time writing random rants about things most people stopped caring about after first grade. Clearly some of you don’t know me. I haven’t been writing these because I haven’t had internet for the last three weeks I’ve been up here. Internet is one of those funny things that you never miss until you don’t have it, like cheese and cup holders.

Of course the big question is why I didn’t have internet. I mean, monkeys living in trees on the Amazon River have internet (as it turns out they run Twitter). Well, to be fair, we haven’t even lived in the apartment we’re in for a month. For those of you who don’t know, we actually had signed a lease on a five-bedroom house. Unfortunately, about a week after we toured the house and signed the lease, one of the tenants living in the house died of an opium tea overdose. On a side note, how embarrassing is it to OD on something called opium tea? At least the other OD victims can say they died of something a little more hard core sounding, like heroin. Opium tea sounds like something British children drink after their afternoon tutoring sessions. Anyway, apparently the dead guy was also the only tenant who cleaned, because when my roommates went to move in the house had (among other things): ripped carpets, broken doors, exposed wiring, moldy bathrooms, and a foam deer head with knives stuck in it. So trust me, learn from our mistake and walk right up to the previous tenants, and ask them, “Are you addicted to drugs?” It may seem rude, but trust me it is. But that’s better than having your landlord, John Bopp, fail to inform you that a drug addict has died in your house (by the way, “John Bopp and the Druggies” would be an awesome band name).

So anyway, that’s how we ended up living with three people in a two-bedroom apartment. Needless to say, having moved in at the last minute, our apartment didn’t have a lot of amenities, such as TV, internet, and most of our furniture. With almost nothing to do, my roommate Chris and I spent most of our time sitting on opposite couches and staring at each other in dark silence. At one point, we entertained ourselves by trying to throw an empty plastic bottle into a cardboard box. At that time we had just as many one-pound bags of cheese (one) as beds in the house (one), so we couldn’t even just sleep to pass time.

Since then of course we’ve upgraded considerably. For instance, we now have two one-pound bags of cheese. But for a long time the internet was the one thing we were unable to get working. We’re going to do a little exercise here. Close your eyes (make sure that you aren’t somewhere where this could be a problem, like in a room with a rapist). You didn’t close your eyes did you? How do I know that? Because you are still reading this you dumbass, which is hard to do with your eyes closed. So get someone next to you (the rapist is fine as long as he can read) to read this out loud to you. Anyway, now imagine you don’t have the internet. What’s the first thing you are going to miss?

Please don’t tell me you said Twitter. You said Twitter didn’t you? Or wait, no, you tweeted that you would miss Twitter. It just sounds dirty, like “and then the rapist tweeted his victim, who had their eyes closed while reading stupid blog posts.” And the horrible thing is that this whole Twittering phenomenon is spreading like Amy Winehouse’s diaper rash. What’s worse is that it’s infecting everything I used to love (Twitter, that is, not Amy’s diaper rash). Even ESPN and UFC stop every five minutes to inform me that I can log onto Twitter and read what they were supposed to tell me on the TV. That’s kind of why I tuned in, but the TV show wouldn’t dare waste their good information on something as trivial as viewers. No, they save it for their Twitter “followers” as they are called (I guess because empty-headed sheep isn’t as catchy). Even “Regis and Kelly Live” isn’t safe from Twitter (because stupid Ashton Kutcher went on the show and decided to spend the entire show tweeting instead of making the usual retarded sounds that he passes as jokes). As usual, I have been a little late catching on with this fad. I’m still not exactly sure what you do on Twitter, but if Ashton Kutcher uses it, it’s a safe bet that it is completely useless. I can honestly say that I rarely want to know what most celebrities think even on important issues, much less know what they are thinking every five minutes about random things like grapefruits.

Of course, if you didn’t say you would miss Twitter, I have a new respect for you. That is, as long as you didn’t say you would miss something stupid, like the ability to do your homework or something. I realized that what I missed most about the internet is the news. For instance, I honestly had no idea that DJ AM had died. But now that I have the internet, I can truly keep current on the news. Which is good, because I’m looking forward to Ted Kennedy helping to pass this health care reform.