Mystery #140 - Choirography

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #140 - Choirography

There are few things I hate in life. I hate sore throats, too-thick ICEEs, ScreenVision, and sports involving balls. Nothing, though, compares to my hate of Choirography. Choirography is a word I just made up for choreography done by a choir. Like all things, there is a specific time and place for choirography, and that time and place is in a show choir.

For all of you non-music types out there, a show choir is when a college grad can't get a job with their music education degree and then takes out their anger later in life by making a bunch of poor high school boys wear sparkly vests and tap dance while singing selections from Oklahoma.

Sound awful? Yea, it does. It isn't a musical, the dance moves aren't the least bit justifiable, and so the only defense you'll hear from said bitter director is "Just shut up and do the damn step-step-turn, Harold." No amount of complaining will break the cycle, and so it continues on for eternity. I am not in a show choir, so imagine my surprise when I discovered I was nonetheless doomed to choirography.

Our choir director is a lovely, kind man. Which leaves me with no explanation why he insists we pantomime the words to "Please, Mr. Columbus" for our next concert. The song is decent, a slightly corny barbershop about some Italian guy sailing to America. The dance moves though, are inexcusable. Anything that requires the instruction "They aren't jazz hands, just do the motion, no fingers" is doomed from the start. Basically, this is infuriating and absurd, and I have to stand up front and I don't wanna look stupid. And that's why I hate choirography.

The End.

Mystery #107 – Generic brand food

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe

Mystery #107 – Generic brand food

I am confused; I do not understand. But allow me to start at the beginning…

There is food that is more expensive than food should be. This food is well known to be expensive solely because of the brand name attached to it. This is established fact. There is other food, then, food that could very well be the same in every way, which initially differs in only two important details: the name on the box, and the price on the label. For the sake of this post, this is what I refer to as generic brand food.

But there is more to the equation, extra variables that throw the whole system off. See, generic brand food is different in more than just the presentation – it’s nasty. Now, there are always exceptions to that rule, but this month money has been tight (Apparently everyone I know has a March birthday. Nice) and I have become increasingly familiar with generic food this week. I’m here to tell you 99% of it tastes nothing like it should.

Now, perhaps the executives working for the big companies have somehow sabotaged the palettes of the generic brand food scientists? Sent them tongue anthrax by mail until, one by one, they’ve lost all ability to detect chalkiness and instead identify it as deliciousness? It cannot be about the cost of materials, simply cannot be. I would understand if we were even talking about food here, but in this day and age most of our delicious, name-brand snacks are all just lab-produced chemicals anyway. We aren’t talking about a well marbled steak, whose natural perfection comes only with the most expensively refined of raising, butchering, and cooking techniques. These are artificial flavors we’re dealing with. What could possibly be the cost difference between one powder designed to taste like ham and another powder that tastes slightly less like ham?

My theory is this: All of the generic food has been imported from somewhere else. Perhaps there is actually a country somewhere out there, where people despise all the things we celebrate as beautiful or wonderful, and from where all the generic brand food comes. In that place, all of our food is on sale for cheap because nobody likes it as much. Kids tug on shopping carts, begging mothers to buy them “Kroger Brand Fruit Hoops” and “Pasta-roni and Cheese”.

“No, Hubert, it’s too expensive,” she’ll say, before picking up another box. “Ooh, how about Kraft brand? Macaroni and Cheese? It’s on sale.”
“But moooom!” he will moan. “That stuff tastes like… cheese. It’s gross!”
“Oh, we’ll just sprinkle a little chalk on it. You’ll hardly know the difference.”
“It just isn’t the same,” he’ll sulk, because it isn’t.

And so Hubert is forced to choke down his disgusting, cheesy noodles and his nasty, sugary cereal that tastes too much like fruit. It isn’t until he is one day eating a box of Cracker Jacks (Dad refused to pay $11.47 for Snappy Cracks, the cheapskate) that his life is changed forever.

The box falls onto its side, and from among the other contents rolls some kind of toy: a plastic decoder ring.
 “M…MOM!” he screams, too startled to pick it up, too excited to move from where he stands.
“What is it?!?” she yells, hurrying into the kitchen. “Did your sister choke on one of the Megabloks again?!?”
She sees it, and stops suddenly. Slowly she walks to the table, gingerly picks up the prize and rests it on her palm. “Oh my… oh my goodness,” she whispers. Her eyes, filled with tears, move slowly between the ring and her shocked child.

“We’re rich.” 

Finally jumping on the bandwagon… my 25 things!!!

False.

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe

Mystery #108 – “25 things about me” blogs

I’m not even sure we can call it a bandwagon anymore, seeing as 90% of facebook now seems to be riding it. In my head, I picture something more like the field at the Cardinal’s stadium: some

huge, lurching monster on rails, loaded with college students.

It strikes me how easily we’ve given in to this, though. We’ve fought so fiercely to protect what is ours, first myspace and then facebook, from the toddlers on one side and the grown-ups on the other. We’ve been the guy sitting on the plane between two fat people, elbows working overtime at the armrests – “Hey, man, this is my domain. Find your own.” In a way, to me, this whole chain-letter-mania is finally the point where the fat flaps close in. The hipster suffocates silently in his sleep, his seat mates casting lots for his uneaten peanuts. My grandma sends me bumper stickers, and my little cousin updates his status at recess. Our world is finally, for the second time, taken over.

The question is, will we run again? Will there be yet another internet promise land to hold our generation of hipster web-refugees? Probably, but until some new, awesome place is founded which is totally for young people only and where adults will totally never understand, man, we seem to be getting along pretty well sharing the sandbox.

Oh and, uh, forward this blog to thirty of your closest friends or unicorns will eat all your underpants.

(Note: I realize the joke of this blog loses its luster when not on facebook. Deal with it.)

Mystery #Applesauce - A special, greatly mysterious announcement

I understand posting this here is stupid and redundant and stupid. However, I consider this canon and the whole point of this website is to be your one-stop shop for unabridged Great Mystery awesomeness. So yeah. Papow.

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe

Mystery #Applesauce - A special, greatly mysterious announcement

Okay, so I didn't want to dignify this with a number, but I have some news which may very well interest none of you. On the other hand, maybe the following will somehow provide the key to your happiness. Perhaps there will be parades, and great improvised song-and-dance numbers in the streets. Maybe they'll build a statue in my honor. Of horses. For 1.5 million dollars.

Sorry. Anyways, I've been writing these stupid, stupid blogs for coming up on two years now. They started as a bored day on Myspace and kind of grew into... something else. I'm not sure what to call it. A big pile of whims that some people pay attention to? Social commentary? Stupid jokes? Meh. Anyways, some of you who have been reading since the beginning (#172, to be exact) will note that nowhere except my computer can all the blogs be found in one place. Plus, I feel lame writing a blog that only gets published to my social networking site. So, for a little while now I've been working on getting the Great Mystery archives posted to a blogger.com account. It isn't super polished yet, but all that I need to tweak are some finishing touches (better layout, some sort of introduction banner, etc.) and I have finally gotten every last blog to date uploaded. So, without further ado, the new home of Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe

www.gmotu.blogspot.com

Not sure yet what this means for the future of the blog. I'll post both here and the blogger site for awhile, but unless I get requests from ya'll to keep the facebook posts coming (gesture to comment section) I'll probably eventually move the whole operation to the website. Either way, I'm excited to make the switch as we continue our way through an increasingly Mysterious universe toward truth, enlightenment, and Great Mystery #1. Night, folks.

-jo

Mystery #109 – 83% of this blog is about Statistics

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #109 – 83% of this blog is about Statistics

 

I made that number up. I’m sorry.

 

…

 

My statistics professor seems to be employed by ASU for the express purpose of driving me to suicide. I do not understand precisely why. Perhaps they want my scholarship money back.

 

Three times a week, I start my morning with a magical romp through her whimsical world, learning such gems as: how to draw bar graphs, the proper technique for dividing a pie chart, and (as I write this) how to use the arrow keys to navigate your calculator’s menu. Seriously, she’s talking about it right now. She just drew a diagram on the board. It looks like this. 

And then my brain imploded.

Mystery #110 – They eat dog in China

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #110 – They eat dog in China

Invariably when my dad comes home, China is a popular topic of discussion. This specific point seems to come up a lot and, frankly, I’m done. Welcome to Great Mysteries, now with extra sass. Mm-hmm.

Yes. Yes, they eat dog in China. No, they do not eat stray dogs off of the street. No, they do not steal other people’s dogs to eat. And no, there is nothing gross, wrong, immoral, or at all dubious about it. I mean, come on people. We live in America. You’re supposed to be the open-minded, culturally enlightened citizens of the melting pot, not the idiot asking, “So, like, is it safe to have a dog there?” No. Chinese people are nasty, dirty little thieves so desperate for the sweet taste of puppy flesh that they routinely dress in their black ninja garb to scour the neighborhood for poor, defenseless animals who’s owners were foolish enough not to keep them inside. Upon finding their prey, these monsters do not even cook the meat, deciding instead to tear it limb from limb with their sharp Chinese fangs. Also, I hear they sleep in coffins.

Honestly? Are you safe having a dog there? I once knew a family with a pot bellied pig as a pet, a big fat thing which wore a collar and had a little dog bed in the corner. They had a small, fenced-in side yard with a dog door, which the pig used to go outside. Now, please show me the idiot who actually thinks this family’s pig is at risk, as random passerby may, at any moment, drop what they’re doing and make a grab for it. Perhaps it will be the businessman on his way to work. Suddenly, in the middle of the street, he stomps on his breaks and bolts out of his car. “BACON!” he yells, “SWEET, DELICIOUS BACON!” I know, I know, it happens every day, poor defenseless family pets devoured by random passerby. I’m not saying that Asian people don’t steal, or even that Asian people don’t steal things to eat, but to assume that the Chinese restaurant down the street may be responsible for your missing Pookie is just absurd.

I won’t spend a lot of time on the second point that dogs aren’t human, because then the racists win. We don’t eat dogs here, but we eat a whole lot of other stuff. I shouldn’t have to whip out the “cows=sacred” example, but it really is the best one out there. Your burger is just as disgusting in someone else’s eyes as dog ramen would be to you (on a related note, “dog ramen” would make a sweet band name…). And, of course, to a vegetarian we’re all on the fast train to some deep, dark, carnivorous hell, so really they’re the only ones who can talk.

Which reminds me, vegetarians… is my garden safe?

Mystery #111 - Global Warming

About a year ago I subjected you all to a rather graphic rant about Santa and projectile vomiting (Mystery #137!!!). It's been a long time, so I figured I owed ya'll a blog. Merry Christmas from me to you.

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #111 - Global Warming

Just last week I was standing on my porch wearing shorts and a t-shirt and watching the rain. My Arizonan readers will know, of course, that rain outside of the summer months is extremely rare. My sane readers will know, of course, that shorts weather days before Christmas is a ridiculous thing. “My,” I thought to myself, “This certainly is a Great Mystery.”

These days you’re always hearing the cons of Global Warming: “the glaciers are melting”, “we’ll all get skin cancer”, “the polar bears are dying”. You need only turn on your TV and be flooded by propaganda. I just can’t help but feel it’s all just a touch one-sided. 

“But Joey... polar bears!” cry the zealots. Well you know what? Polar bears terrify me. Sometimes, I wake up in a cold sweat, thanking my sweet Lord for his ongoing protection from the White Menace. If you ask me, any enemy of the bears deserves our gratitude.

And know what hasn’t done a thing to protect us from polar bears? The freakin’ rainforest. Lame.

Mystery #112 – Fire Safety

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #112 – Fire Safety

The fire alarm in the MU went off today.

Now, most of you will remember the Great MU Fire of ’07, a particularly nasty blaze which threatened tens of thousands, few of whom managed to escape with their lives [citation needed]. I myself was inside at the time, diving through the flames just as the roof collapsed with no less than twelve asphyxiated orphans clinging to my back, all of whom I single-handedly resuscitated before reuniting with all their long-lost families (most of whom were wizards).

Well, I can assure you that when that fire started, we knew it. Flashing lights and blaring alarms sprung to life throughout the building; the grating RRRGH- RRRGH- RRRGH sound most of us associate with lining up on the basketball court. The MU was closed for a long time after that, during which administration assured us the building was being remodeled and outfitted with a new, improved fire alarm system.

There is a distinct possibility that I am partially deaf, my handicap only being the exact pitches emitted by new, improved fire alarm systems, but I doubt it. When the alarm went off today, a flashing light began to blink every few seconds. From the basement there was an automated announcement I could faintly hear as I passed the stairwell, but on the main level… nothing. Some people looked around, confused, and most didn’t notice at all.

It finally took a woman in an ”ASU staff” polo to get people moving, “Fire alarm, everybody out of the building!” She yelled it over and over, kind of like, you know, a fire alarm. I didn’t check her for a control panel or a power cord, but I probably should have. It is, after all, a new and improved fire alarm system.

I was already headed out, so I suppose I’ll have to wait and hear how the Great MU Fire of ’08 panned out, but I’m not that optimistic. While “whisper quiet” sounds good in a car, vacuum, or bulldozer commercial, I’m not sure it should be the selling point for a new, IMPROVED fire alarm system. I imagine the singed, exhausted robot woman going home to her robot family. It’s been a long day at work, and she’s not sure she did her job to the best of her ability. She’ll cry oily robot tears as her husband gingerly clamps her shoulders. “It’s ok, wife-bot, you couldn’t have saved them all. That place needs four, five robot alarms minimum. They’re completely understaffed.” But she’ll just keep blaming herself, keep thinking... if only…

I mean, heck, the boy’s bathroom! She can’t even go in there.

Mystery #114 – Mosquitoes

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #114 – Mosquitoes

I enjoy the weather in Arizona. It’s hot, but in the way my oven is hot. China, however, is hot like a hobo’s armpit: it’s warm and sticky and there are bugs here.

Which of course means mosquitoes. Like every other sane person on the face of the planet, I hate mosquitoes. They drink your blood and give you pimples without the silver lining/pastime of popping. Did I mention the blood? They also, I sometimes fear, might have the power to turn me into a mosquito vampire, which would be like a regular vampire except I’d be repelled by DEET and my castle would be in a bayou, which is lame. If I’m going to be transformed into a creature of the night for all eternity, I’m not spending it in Louisiana.

To protect against this (and, you know, itchiness) I’ve developed a talent for snatching bugs out of the air with my bare hand and crushing them. I used to do the same at home with flies and gnats, only without the crushing. However, I feel obligated to kill the mosquitoes – and quickly – lest my pastime become counter-productive.

It’d be kind of like an all you can eat buffet violently abducting a passing fat man, it’s magical forces depositing him before a silently whirring soft-serve machine. “Feed,” it would command him, it’s voice cold and metallic, “Drain me, and find sustenance.” His trembling, flabby hand would reach for a waffle cone, apprehensive but all too willing.

So yeah, crushing it is.

This was all well and good until the other day, when a mosquito made it through my defenses to score a direct hit. I was so angry, I caught him, grabbed a lighter, and held him by the wings with a pair of tweezers while burning him alive. That prompted a good look in the mirror. Just, ya know, FYI. Don’t bite me.

Mystery #115 – Supercalifragilisticexmymomidoceous

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #115 – Supercalifragilisticexmymomidoceous

As far as Greek Mythology is concerned, there is no greater status for a mortal than to be the offspring of a god. All the cool, trendy Greek kids would have told you that only half-human was the way to be. In fact, any myth not exclusively concerning gods was pretty much reserved for these guys. They were human, but they were still way better than you. Hercules was really strong, and eventually ended up being 50% the god of asbestos. Achilles was raised by centaurs, freakin centaurs, because no man was hardcore enough to be his teacher. I mean we’re talking a populace at near this-is-Sparta levels of testosterone, and they had to bring out the centaurs. When you were still getting action figures and legos for your birthday, Perseus’s relatives gave him a sword and some magic armor, and then sent him to go kill a gorgon. The closest I’ve ever come to that was finally beating the goron race in Majora’s Mask. Sure, that’s almost the same, only I didn’t get a dismembered head out of the deal.

But like Spider Man’s dead uncle once said, it ain’t easy being king (or something like that). Hercules, having pissed off his stepmother by existing, had to… uh… lift a bunch of stuff. There were goats in there too. Achilles inherited his mother’s superhuman powers in the “being a stuck up jerk” department, and had to not die while simultaneously pissing off every soldier in Troy. We won’t even get started on Phaëton. Basically what I’m trying to say is that having a golden chromosome may have benefits, but you get a whole load of other crap to deal with at the same time.

This has been on my mind a lot, as it was recently brought to my attention that my mother is the goddess of awesome. I probably should have gotten wise when she blew through nursing school, which I assume she accomplished by arm wrestling every test into submission while the Rocky soundtrack blared in the background. After ripping MCC a new one - literally - she proceeded to land her dream job in a local ICU, presumably by jumping through a skylight before announcing to the terrified staff, “bow before me, mortals, your souls are mine”. Then she shot lasers out of her eyes. At a bear. No, strike that, at an undead army of bears, which she then defeated and made her slave minions. Also, she’s good at yahtzee.

I’m working on living up to that legacy, which unfortunately probably means less days spent watching cartoons and eating Captain Crunch. Dang.

Mystery #113 – Yankee ingenuity

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #113 – Yankee ingenuity

I didn’t sleep much last night, which meant I was up at an ungodly hour today (see Appendix C: Dawn). My dad is an early riser, the poor man, and so we found ourselves awake, together, and in need of morning foodstuffs. Being a great and devoted lover of pancakes, and knowing full well my father had purchased syrup and bisquick last week, I reckoned I’d fix me up some pan to the cakeses. My dad took off to run some errands, leaving me to my kitchen hijinks.

Background. When my dad moved from Suzhou down here to Dongguan, his things got shipped back to the US until he could re-establish residency with a new visa. However, the Olympics are like high-grade antiheroine for China’s bureaucracy, which means the drawers of kitchen supplies with which I would make my sweet morsels are currently trapped like flies in a web of Chinese red tape.

Dramatic irony: I had freakin’ pancakes for breakfast today. My first step was to fashion a griddle out of a metal tray found in a cupboard. That part was easy. We don’t have measuring cups, but I did find a water bottle with ounce markings on it. Luckily we did have a spatula, so I didn’t have to rig one out of hemp and banana peels or anything fancy like that. I mixed my ingredients in a beer mug and stirred them with a chopstick. When all was said and done I had a plate full of funky, deformed, delicious friends. Like most of my other friends, I decided to smear butter on them and drizzle them with syrup.

That’s about when I realized we didn’t have clean forks. 

I earned that pancake.

Mystery #116 – Wisdom teeth

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #116 – Wisdom teeth

I’ve known for a week now that I was going to write about this, but I had to give myself some time. When I first heard from my dentist that I had to get my wisdom teeth out it was just kind of an “eh, no biggie”. They weren’t bothering me, but preemptive strike and all that, I understand, and I figured getting them out now would get it over with.

Having (pretty much) gotten through it all, I’m now wondering why a loving God would have given me wisdom teeth in the first place? If I was of latino descent, I would probably feel the urge to fall to my knees and shout this question to the heavens, but I don’t even own a bumble bee suit so that’s not really an option. Left, then, to contemplation, I fail to see how wisdom teeth could either...

a) have evolved through natural selection (nothing about chipmunk cheeks will get you laid) or…
b) be the product of intelligent design. More like “inattentive, if not vindictive” design. Maybe God just procrastinated on the whole mouth thing and pulled an all-nighter the night before it was due. Yeah, He told his mom he had started last Wednesday, but really he had wasted all his time on that dang World of Warcraft. He knew it was important... but those Sparkle Orcs weren't going to slay themselves! 

If that’s the case, I guess I can’t really point fingers. Except I will point out that my English essays don’t bleed for a week when I leave out a quote. All in all, I guess it comes down to common sense. They’re called wisdom teeth because anyone stupid enough to pay another person to cut their mouth open doesn’t deserve to be called wise.

 

**BONUS MYSTERY: SOLVED!!!**

In old movies, “tooth ache” is always signified by a character having a bandage or white cloth wrapped around their face, under the chin and over the top of the head. I never really got this until the day after my surgery. By then, the swelling had set in and when I walked my cheeks were jigglin’ like slutty cafeteria girl going for seconds at the salad bar. It got to the point where I would hold them in place to keep them from moving (one word, stitches). So, I may be wrong on this, but as far as I’m concerned it isn’t just a fashion statement. It’s a face bra!

Mystery #117 – Subconscious

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #117 – Subconscious

As many of you know, my nose has recently gotten me into trouble (see Mystery 118). Here’s a review for you guys real quick: my dentist cut a little too deep when taking out my upper left wisdom tooth and poked almost into my sinus. I blew my nose, raising my sinus pressure, which ended up breaking this thin remaining division. Now I’m stuck at home sniffling and taking antibiotics.

Obviously, it’s a situation I’d like to end as soon as possible, and so when Dr. Heap says “no blowing your nose, sneezing, etc.” I take him VERY seriously. The last thing I need is for this to nearly heal and somehow land myself with another two weeks. No sneezing, got it.

This morning I woke up and I had to sneeze. I panicked. I tried grabbing my nose, kind of massaging it to get the tickle out, but nothing happened. I thought of how you can “ruin” other people’s sneezes, grabbing their arm a split second before it comes out so they get distracted. The sneeze just goes away. But how do you distract yourself? I had a second to act. I knew I had to do something to stop the sneeze. Before I could realize what I was doing, I was yelling out loud.

“There are bees in the merchandise!!!”

…I know, right? Freud would have a field day with that. I just yelled it, loud and proud to my empty room. Going back after the fact, I can kind of deconstruct my thought process, but this all literally happened in a split second and I really only had time to pick it apart once it had happened. I’m pretty sure… and I don’t know here, but I think I may have cycled through some word association. I think I got “bees” from “distraction”, because, I dunno, bees are distracting or something. And then I’m pretty sure my lightening wit decided something random about bees would do the trick. All in all it probably looked something like this.

Sneeze?
Nooooo sneeze
Stop (grab)
Not working
Sneeze stop?
Distraction?
Bees.
There are bees in the merchandise!!!

On one hand, I’m REALLY glad I found some way to avert that crisis. On the other, I’m more than a little troubled that there’s stuff like that floating around in my subconscious. I swear, being alone in this house is driving me crazy…

Mystery #118 – Karma

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #118 – Karma

Apparently, in a former life, I liked to punch kittens in the face. My recent pre-China follow-up appointment at the dentist went perfectly. Not so perfect was the sudden flow of nasty goo that started leaking from one of my healing incisions after I got home. Turns out, I have a badly infected puncture wound into my sinus cavity, and cannot travel for at LEAST two weeks.

On the plus side, I can now blow my nose out of my mouth. Awesome.

Mystery #119 – Adventure

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #119 – Adventure

So, dear friends, the time has come for us to part. For those of you who do not know, the day after tomorrow (which is Wednesday, but "the day after tomorrow" sounds more dramatic. That's probably why they called the movie that, instead of just "Wednesday") I'll be getting on an early flight to China, and won't be coming back to you until August.

I know a lot of you guys have family in other places who you go spend summers with, but for me that's never been the case. This trip (three months!) will be the absolute longest I've ever been away from good old Chandler, AZ. It’s a little exciting and a little scary, but I think I’ve finally gotten myself psyched up for it. Plus, I’m just really excited to have some time to spend with my dad. This may be a good time to mention, for anyone not yet aware, that my dad moved to China last summer for his job. He’s been back now and then for the holidays and stuff, but I still really miss him a lot.

Now, some important information for ya’ll, and the real reason for this blog.

1) My phone won’t be working in China (duh), and we may disconnect it altogether to avoid paying buttloads for it to sit, off, in my pocket. So just in case don’t call or text anytime after, say, noon on Wed (I’ll be flying to Cali first, but once I get on that second plane I’m as good as gone).

2) There are other, non-phone ways to keep in touch. Facebook is a great example. For those of you looking for an actual email address, mine is nerd7863@cox.net. I don’t IM much, but if I did that first part of my email is my sn.

3) This one is important, so it gets a special tab. www.skype.com has a WONDERFUL free video chat/IM software. I vote you download it and find me, which you can do by clicking “add contact” and searching for my email address. Skype works almost exactly like AIM, only you get to choose to talk in a chat box, video chat with webcams, or even video chat with just microphones (like a telephone, but free).

4) Skype does this other nifty thing that may be harder to explain, but I’ll try. When I’m in China, I’ll be getting a Chinese phone. Through skype, I can set up an account with my phone so you guys can call me. Basically, skype sets up a number here in AZ and you call THAT number (so it isn’t long distance, see?). Skype also sets up a Chinese number, and connects the two through the internet. Your call goes through the AZ number, through the internet, comes out through the Chinese number, and calls me on my Chinese phone. Just like that, we’re chatting on the phone from different countries, but it’s as if we’re both making local calls (basically, you won’t have to pay a finger per minute to say hello). I’ll be posting that number as soon as I get to China and get it set up.

So there ya go. Between email, skype, and my skype phone, anyone who wants to keep in touch this summer can. I’m going to miss all of you guys like crazy, so please do. I’ll be going on some pretty crazy adventures to some places I had never dreamed I’d go. I promise you all I will post pictures, video, and blogs about all the stupid stuff that I get into. But there’s one more thing, which is extremely important.

CHINA TIME IS OPPOSITE AZ TIME! I love you guys, but please do not call me in the middle of the night to tell me that one show is on that we both like and you thought it was cool. I’m especially worried about this happening once I get my cell phone hooked up, so please listen carefully. China time is 15 hours ahead of us. The trick we use to figure the difference is by adding 3 hours to the time in Arizona, and then flipping am for pm. So, for instance, as I write this it is 9:27 am here in Chandler. Adding two hours makes it 12:27 am, and so it is 12:27 pm in China. Obviously the times aren’t COMPLETELY opposite, and there are plenty of times to talk (generally mid afternoon to early morning) so you night owls can call whenever you want. General rule of thumb, though: if you’re eating lunch, I’m probably asleep. Call me, and risk losing souvenir privileges.

Mystery #120 – Annoying Lecture Guy

Special Edition: Great Mysteries of the ASU-niverse

Mystery #120 – Annoying Lecture Guy

I have several friends with this same individual in their class. I know it’s the same person because the description is always the same. This is that guy who interrupts the teacher with stupid question after stupid question (half of which they just answered). This is that guy who decides halfway through class would be a great time to loudly talk to his friend about how wasted he got last night. And that guy who always shouts out the answers to the teacher’s questions, which are wrong every time? Yea, that’s him.

It’s amazing just how many lectures he seems to be in. According to the stories I hear, he’s taking both upper and lower division classes in almost every subject. Heck, he even has different lectures at the same time, which probably means he got permission from the Ministry for a time turner. That is the only explanation, as any alternative means I have to admit there could possibly be more than one person in the world this obnoxious. And I… I just don’t know if I could handle that…

Mystery #121 – Perspective

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Mystery #121 – Perspective

I wrote my last Human Event paper on perspective. It was really awesome. Basically five pages on this poem, where at first the narrator sees everything around him one way, before suddenly arriving at this whole new interpretation. Just like that, perspective shifts and the picture changes altogether. It's like the first time you see an Escher drawing, or when you finally get the knack of a Magic Eye. Swirls and chaos collapse into something as simple as a rose, and you realize it's been there all along.

Our dorm is blank. I took down posters today, which leaves me, JD, Artemus, a fridge and a microwave. It's odd seeing the walls this white, all the nooks empty, because it's the first time it's felt this way since move-in.

Looking back, it's funny to imagine how different everything seemed. Not big differences, but broad experiences. That feeling you got the first time in a new place that now is so familiar, or the way you used to orient yourself based on landmarks that you've since replaced.

It reminds me of the time I found out the park our cross country team trained at was the same park my friends lived by. With the team, I always approached from the opposite end, and from that corner everything looked so unfamiliar. It wasn't until that revelation that those two parks collided into something with more than one side to it, something I had experienced in more than just one way.

I had a funny blog for today, but Word won't open and I had to write a new one. At first it seemed like a huge inconvinence, but having written it, I'm not so sure.

Mystery #122 – 9:40 MWF Chemistry 116 in PSH 150

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Mystery #122 – 9:40 MWF Chemistry 116 in PSH 150

I have Chem 113 at 8:40 on MWF in PSH 150. It’s a pretty good class, and I will admit that, of the lecture halls I have experienced here at ASU, PSH 150 is pretty cool. I mean, there are… chairs? And fold out desks? Oh, and the real icing on the cake, that good old stadium seating. Yea, PSH 150 has… all the things that every other lecture hall in the entire school has!

You see, it’s actually rather confusing. As much as my class enjoys PSH 150, no one in the world could love it like the Chem 116 class after us. According to ASUInteractive, there are currently 186 students enrolled, and let me tell you, 186 people have never loved a room more. Why else would they stand at the ready every day, eager to push against the current of exiting 113’ers in their excitement to claim a seat? Sure, on the surface it seems silly not to wait until there aren’t a hundred people leaving the room to try and shove your way into it, but there has to be some totally great reason… right?

Mystery #123 – Slutty cafeteria girl

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Mystery #123 – Slutty cafeteria girl

Hey you,

It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? I haven’t seen you at the dining hall all week. I thought I saw you Tuesday, but it was just some guy in a tank top. I thought of you, though. It’s good to see you’re back. This place is always so dull without you.

Oh, was that a shiver I detected? I see you’ve noticed the air conditioning. They’ve been totally blasting it lately. I can only imagine how cold it must be over there in the corner. That tube top doesn’t seem to be very insulating (spandex rarely is, though, isn’t it? Which just makes no sense, what with the hot pink and all. You’d think that would count for something…) Still, it does go nicely with your lime green mini skirt. That was the first thing that I thought when I saw you waddle through the turnstile, was, “My, how those two completely opposite neon colors complement each other.” And it’s true, too. They bring out your eyes.

I’m not so sure about the shoes, though. Now, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate bright yellow as much as anyone, but are you sure they’ve got enough of a heel? I mean, four inch pumps are nice, but my mother always told me there never was a winner with heels less than six inches. I suppose I understand, though. It’s finals week and we’re all making sacrifices. I guess, all things considered, I should be wondering how you pull off looking as good as you do. Anyways, I’m off to class, but you don’t be a stranger alright? I’m telling you, another week without seeing that delightful little leopard print bag of yours and I’d just be beside myself. Ciao!

-Joey

P.S. – Your makeup looked especially nice today. I swear, you do things with purple eye shadow and glitter I’ve never even imagined.

Mystery #124 – The Math Dungeon

Friends and fellow students, today begins that most dark period of the school year known as Finals Week. In honor of this horrible, horrible time in all of our lives, us here at Great Mysteries have prepared a special series to help get you through the hard times.

Special Edition: Great Mysteries of the ASU-niverse
Mystery #124 – The Math Dungeon

I wrote you a story. I hope you like it.

Once upon a time, in a magic world of sundevils and wonderment, lived a little Math Department Head named King Blinky. Now, King Blinky was a kind and generous Math Department Head who ruled over the Math Department with a fair and merciful hand, until the day he died in a tragic vegetable soup accident.

Now, King Blinky’s assistant, Dr. Misery, was the exact opposite of his humble boss. For years, Dr. Misery had watched the Math Department sink in popularity. In fact, Dr. Misery hated nothing more than losing students to what he called “the wimpy classes”. Once upon a time, students from far and wide had learned powerful calculations in the Math Department’s hallowed halls. But now, the students were mostly visitors fulfilling a required college algebra credit before walking out the door forever. “These traitors!” thought Dr. Misery to himself, “They think they can escape the grasp of the Math Department?! Well, some day I will have my chance, and when I do, we’ll see who gets off with just an easy semester!”

Dr. Misery was a patient man, and so when it came time to replace King Blinky, he knew his opportunity had arrived at last. He commissioned a pit be built at the very heart of campus, deep beneath the foundations of the tallest tower. At the bottom of this pit, he ordered another, even darker and deeper pit dug, until there reached a portal from the surface down into the depths of hell itself. Inside the shaft, Dr. Misery’s workmen built a series of dark stairwells and long, foreboding hallways, with which to instill fear in all who dared enter. And at the very deepest point, at the end of the most gloomy hallway and the very darkest stairwell, they built the Math Dungeon.

Only when the construction was complete did Dr. Misery proceed with the next part of his plan. Into the Dungeon he ordered all sorts of evil things, dragons and goblins and trolls and really uncomfortable desks. Great posters of rules were hung on the walls, and many fluffy bunnies were sacrificed to instill the chamber with dark curses against joy and happiness. Only after all manner of evil had been put into the Dungeon was Dr. Misery satisfied.

And so it was decreed that henceforth, all Math Students unlucky enough to descend into the deepest pits of campus, to the Math Dungeon itself, would know the full measure of Dr. Misery’s hatred for humanity. Sometimes, if you are quiet as you pass down Palm Walk, you can hear them. They are the tortured souls, confined within the walls of their own doom. Pray, children, pray to whatever gods you can that their fate does not befall you, for the Math Dungeon breaks more than a man’s body. Aye, it has power to cleave thy very soul in twain.

THE END