Tag Archives: liveblog

LiveBlog: My Stay at the Social Security Office

13 Aug

My sister recently got married.  Unfortunately for her standing in the Women’s Lib movement, she decided to take her husband’s last name. Changing your name requires a bit of paperwork. A bit. Of. Paperwork. Kasey, my sister, didn’t want to go alone, so I volunteered to keep her company while she went to the Social Security Office to submit her forms. I had never been to the Social Security Office  or changed my name before, so I figured I’d log my experience and share my findings with you in the form of liveblog.

1:55 pm

We arrive at the Social Security Office. It’s a new building, a mix of concrete and brick of varying brown tones. It’s a single room connected to a corridor lined with windows where clerks sit. In the room there are roughly twenty or so chairs. We walk through the glass doors and are immediately met by a security guard telling me to leave my drink at the door. I told him to leave his attitude at his stupid little booth thing.

2:15 pm

I sneak back into the office through a side door. My sister is sitting quietly, holding her marriage license, name-change forms, and some other piece of paper that I later found out was a death note the security guard had handed my sister to give to me.

2:24 pm

I take a moment to put together an inventory of those in the office with me. There are people of all shapes, sizes, colors, creeds, and pant sizes. Across the aisle from me sits a glassy-eyed Hispanic man with two prosthetic legs. He looks out through the glass doors, looking at someone beyond my range of vision, and runs his index finger across his throat. He then looks at me and quickly averts his gaze. This is the last day I will spend on Earth.

2:46 pm

This is so goddamn boring. A man enters who looks a lot like Hurley from LOST. His odor is horrific. He’s with his mother and father. His father has a tube running from a bag and into the back of his leg, which is in a cast, so I can’t see EXACTLY where the tube ends.

Smelly Hurley sits down next to me and almost immediately falls asleep. While he’s sleeping I spray him with some Febreeze I got from a custodian. I receive high fives and appreciative nods from everyone in the room. His dad gives me four dollars.

2:58 pm

A child, his mother, and grandmother come in and sit across from me, next to the Hispanic gentleman who I believe will be my killer. The child, who is having to sit with his mother from a lack of chair space, squirms about for a few minutes, grunting and occasionally making guttural noises of impatience and restlessness. Finally, someone leaves and the boy gets a chair to himself. He is now sitting directly in front of me.  I’m looking out the window when I hear a small voice begin to sing the “Happy Birthday” song. I turn to find the source and it’s the boy. He’s looking directly at me–singing to me. “Happy birthday, dear mister, happy birthday to you.” He smiles at the end of every verse and points to the Hispanic gentleman. I can feel a cold chill run up my spine. I get up and walk to read some free literature about getting a work visa.

3:03 pm

Not-so-stinky Hurley wakes up and smells himself. He smiles, picks his nose, and goes back to sleep.

3:06 pm

I’m now standing next to the brochures. Now I’m reading about my W-9. A boy next to me is taking brochures out of their designated slots and mixing them around. The Security Guard (Or Security Tard as I call him) came up to us. He scolded the boy and put all the brochures back. His arm hairs brushed my own. I felt an energy, a symmetry. I took this as a green light to grab his gun, because now it’s our gun.

3:30 pm

I was wrong. It was not our gun. The gun belonged to the United States Government.

3:37 pm

Sam Miller come bail me out of jail.

So that was my stay at the Social Security Office. What did you think? Write me soon.



Liveblogging: Memorial Day/The Big Bang Theory

25 May

My feet hurt. Why? Because I ran around my back yard like a child for like two hours. Did I amaze all those watching with my unmatched athletic prowess? Well, sure.  We threw around a frisbee, a football, and a Civic.

I then wrestled in the pool with my brother in our pool. The ensuing thrashing caused a ripple effect that moved out from us, throwing water up high into the atmosphere. I’d like to apologize for the severe weather soon to come. OOPS!

I’m watching the Big Bang Theory in my living room. There’s a gorgeous girl that lives across the hall from some nerds (Sheldon and Leonard). It’s like how Wes lives across the hall from me and Derek. Wes is so gorgeous and he gets along so well with Derek, but he’s ultimately oblivious to Derek’s romantic feelings for him.

This guy (Sheldon) from the Big Bang Theory is wanting to make friends. He’s at a book store to get a book on how to make friends. The clerk told him that the only “making friends” books were in the children’s section. So now, he’s making friends with this little girl sitting by a train set. This is so creepy. I’m not comfortable with this. Thank god the guy from Rosanne is here to drag him away. Take him. Good Christ. The creepy guy’s name is Sheldon. Doesn’t that make it worse?

My hero. Remember him from Roseanne? He was cool, then. Now he looks kind of like a safer, less drug-addle Joaquin Phoenix. It looks like Joaquin layed an egg and this man came out. Good god, Joaquin Phoenix has attained sentience. Hes now reproducing at will.

My hero. Remember him from Roseanne? He was cool, then. Now he looks kind of like a safer, less drug-addled Joaquin Phoenix. It looks like Joaquin layed an egg and this man came out. Good god, Joaquin Phoenix has attained sentience. He's now reproducing at will.


$2,000 cash back on a new Camry. LOVE IT. I love $2,000 dollars.

Ok, it’s back on. They’re talking about Lysine. Idiots. Sheldon thinks there’s an algorithm for making friends. I think…by making an algorithm for making friends, he’s inadvertently created the perfect method for never making friends ever ever ever. Is an algorithm the same thing as a flow chart? Because what I see here is a flow chart on a dry erase board. One of you look up algorithm and tell me what it is.

Sweet. Sheldon is going rock climbing with this guy who he wants to be friends with. Ok, the thing is, he wants to use this guy’s super computer to do some research, and the guy only lets his friends use the computer. The irony in this is, although the other guy is painted as an ass hole, Sheldon is the one trying to use someone.

Son of a bitch.

Son of a bitch.

They’re back at the apartment. Sheldon brought Gary (guy with the computer) back. They’re…good god. Now Sheldon is saying he can’t handle five friendships. He’s firing one friend. This guy is kind of an ass hole. OHHHHHHH OK! He just fired Raj. Hm. The only minority in a lily white sea of plastic rimmed glasses and colorful sweaters. Ok, wait; what first seemed like a decision based on race seems to be based on much more. When Sheldon gave Raj a friendship questionaire, Raj said he thought Sheldon’s favorite sugar was Glutamine. It’s actually Lysine. Who…b…

Now we’ve found out, there is actually no favoritism on the part of Gary. He follows a strict schedule. So our “hero” Sheldon is a honest to god, real-life, bastard. He just took away Gary’s Chinese food and gave it to Raj. If I was Raj, I’d take that Chinese food and…oops, no time for punch line, commercials.

Stupid Verizon commercial with the guy with the sprinkles in the ice cream shop. I hate this man. If I was that clerk, I would kill that son of a–DAMN IT NEW COMMERCIAL

Ashley furniture, no interest til 2013. It’ll be way past 2013 when I become interested in buying a $800 couch.

It’s over.


Liveblogging My Life: Friday, April 17th, 2008

18 Apr

9:16 am:

I wake up to find that it is 9:16. I have no time for coffee, cereal, or pants.

9:27 am:

I’m on the bus. When I step on board, I immediately look at the driver, a surly old chap with a lovely tattoo on his arm of a naked woman riding a flaming snake, and say “Uh-oh! Looks like we’re in for some trouble with this rascal behind the wheel! Right everyone?” I was at this point, the only person on the bus. The bus driver turned to me and lifted up his shirt. He had a gun. I sat down and said nothing else for the rest of the trip.

9:43 am:

Mmm… campus. I love campus. So much learning, so much youthful exuberance and joy. I see a man preaching in the “Free Speech Zone.” He looks like if somebody took Al from Home Improvement and dried him in the hot desert sun. He’s like an Al-Raisin. I walk up to this leather-faced, bearded evangelical and hold out my hand for a high five, beckoning him to raise his hand. As soon as he does, I drop mine and yell “Who’s secretly Jewish?!” I got him so good. He shoved me and I said nasty words.

10:00 am:

I’m in my American Literature class. Hemingway ‘n shit.

10:18 am:

The guy sitting in front of me has fallen asleep. I need to prank him. But how? I briefly pause my 18-minute speech on the moral implications of Hemingway’s having a big bushy beard to consider this. The teacher then hesitantly begins to speak. I raise one finger in the air, covering my mouth with my free hand in a thoughtful pose that would later be painted by the creepy mouth breather that sits 2 rows over. I then insert my finger into my mouth, wetting it thoroughly. I lean forwards, scoping out his ear. Slowly I raise my hand above him, then, as fast as I can, I ball up my fist and punch him square in the temple. “GOT YOU WITH MY LIT HAND!” I say, proudly. I am proud of my lit hand.

1:10 pm

I am out and about in a dorm cafeteria. Kerr Hall, in fact. A lot of people think dorm food is bad. I disagree. I love it. I love the chicken patty/meat sponge. I also l0ve to chomp down on the salisbury steak/pork chop. Oh! but my favorite food they serve is lasagna/stapler.

8:36 am, April 17th, 2000

HOLY SHIT TIME PARADOX! There are so many things I need to warn myself about. Don’t see Date Movie! Don’t quit playing piano. It’s way cooler than guitar and believe me, you don’t have a surplus of cool to throw around in your later years. One more thing: your hair! The giant curly hair! It didn’t really look that cool. It was just kind of ok. Quirky at best. Almost helmet-like. Oh yea, and it’s time to dump your AIG stock. ALL of it.

6:15 pm, April 17th, 2008

I’m working out with Josh now. He’s mad because I brought all my gym clothes with me in my car and, after seeing what Josh was wearing, picked out the outfit that most resembled his. He keeps getting angry at me when I refer to our outfits as “uniforms.” They are uniforms. They are.

God, it is hot in this room. It feels like I’m blogging in a fucking Korean jungle, like grandpa did (Please see “Liveblogging My Life: March 4, 1951; Huntin’ Charlie”–my grandfather’s old blog.).

Liveblogging My Life: Friday, March 27th

27 Mar

As many of you know, I’m a man of complete mystery. I’m more mysterious than even the Batman, and as all of you know, the only way to be more mysterious than Batman, who appears and disappears with equal amounts of mysteriousness, is to be so mysterious that even you yourself have no idea where you are. That sounds stupid. I’m like an idiot Batman that makes bad jokes on his blog.

Anyway, I decided to give everyone a peek into what makes me tick, what makes me uniquely “Kyle.” Mostly it’s drugs, but also, it’s the events of my day to day life. Let’s get started, eh gang?

Friday, March 27th, 8:20 am

Ah crap. I didn’t die last night. *sigh* Oh well. (Hits snooze four times.)


I guess it’s time to start the day. Oh, Jesus, thank you for this beautiful sunshine! Please help me make use of this fantastic world you’ve blessed me with! (falls asleep)

9:17 am

I just put my pants on and now I’m going to go to the kitchen to make some breakfast and some coffee. First, I have to remove all the razor blades my room mate Derek put in my cereal the night before. It’s no big deal, he just doesn’t know how to show his love. I open my coffee container to see that my coffee has been replaced with dirt, and there is a small note resting on the surface that reads “lol, dirt.” Oh, Derek. I sneak into Derek’s room and kiss him on the head for being so sweet and emotionally retarded.

9:34 am

I’m waiting at the bus stop. The guy next to me is smoking. He looks unhappy, angry even. I assume his anger is deeply rooted in his helplessness against nicotine addiction. So to save him, I knock the cigarette out of his mouth and, smiling from ear to ear, yell “Now you are free! God saw fit to put you in my l–” Right here, he punches me square in the mouth. I assume that, because of nicotine withdrawals, he can hardly control his own muscles, throwing his fists wildly in an attempt to give me a thank you hug. He’s sweeter than Derek. Please don’t tell Derek.

10:18 am

I’m in American Lit class. I took American Lit because I love freedom. One time I had to take a British literature class, and I spent the entire semester chanting “USA, USA” under my breath and covering my ears with cheese burgers. I would continually replace the teacher’s copy of the British Norton Anthology with a DVD of Rambo. I tried to remain anonymous, but my anonymity was always spoiled when I went to the professor after class asked for my copy of Rambo back. That was the first time I was ever dropped from a class involuntarily. My teacher asks me a question about the post-modernism, but I’m like so tired. So instead of answering, I just put my finger in my mouth, make a pop sound, and go to sleep at my desk.

12:38 pm

I just woke up and my American literature class has been over for about an hour and a half. The room is completely empty except for me and that guy who I always thought looked at me in a way that men don’t usually look at each other. When I open my eyes, he jerks in his seat and tries to act like he didn’t notice the time. “Oops! got caught up in the discussion!” he says as he puts his shirt on. He forgot his candles and his cat. I went ahead and took the candles. I put the cat in the trash. I’m late to my class, so I put the pedal to the metal and walk slightly faster than usual to the Language building.

12:43 pm

I walk into my second American lit class of the day. The professor turns, mid-sentence and says “I’m glad you could make it. I hope you have a good reason for your tardiness.”  “Sorry I’m late,” I decided to win over my professor, my excuse would have to be an academic one, “I was boning Jane Austen.” I then walked around the room holding out my fist for people to pound. That was the second time I was involuntarily dropped from a class.

12:53 pm

Just got off phone with mom. Told her about getting dropped. She’s very disappointed.

12:56 pm

Just got off phone with dad. Told him about getting dropped. Thought my joke was hilarious.

1:00 pm

Just got off phone with grandmother. Told her about getting dropped. Made terrible mistake of retelling joke, had to explain what “boning” was. I am no longer invited to Christmas.

2:27 pm

Hey every body, I’m actually blogging MID-DRIVE! This is so cool. I can give you turn by turn directions of my trip. Right now I’m turning on to thoiaeu;aofijalkjl;;;;;awsedbhyuinjk;;;;;;;;;;;;;

5:08 pm

Get released from hospital. Had to get a ride home from Wesley. Car’s totaled. We have to go to the junk yard to look at it or something dumb.

5:30 pm

Hey, there are police here. They seem annoyed that I’m carrying around and constantly typing on a lap top. I ask them if they want me to mention them in my blog, tell them they can get “mucho famoso” for being in it. They tell me to shut the computer right now or they’ll beat it with their night sticks. Be back soon. Must protect computer.

6:00 pm

Oh my. What a good laugh we had at the impound lot. While inspecting the car, police saw that the brakes had been cut, and by the hose, there was a note that said “lol, brakes.” I love Derek.

6:28 pm

Trying to stay fit. I’m at the rec. I’m lifting weights. I’m lifting curses. I’m lifting my spirits.

8:00 pm

I just got home from my workout and play Nazi Zombies with my room mate Wes. We play for hours, killing hundreds upon hundreds of undead fascists. I gotta admit, I get pretty worked up. So to calm down, I go for a walk. The night is beautiful. Oh! I think I just heard a frog! There’s a cool, misty breeze and the sun is just beginning to set. Crap, what was that? I think I just heard a groaning s…what?… oh god. OH GOD! ZOMBIE! SHIT! GOD ALMIGHTY! ;fsklajoreip4888888

8:13 pm

I killed a homeless person. Damn it. Oh, man… what am I gonna do? I’m putting him in the fetal position, head resting on folded hands. He’s going to look like he’s asleep…and bleeding heavily. I gotta dump this computer, though. Goodbye.

8:14 pm

I can’t leave you computer. I’m going into the woods. Wireless signal weakening (Network: Foresty Area Next to Dead Guy). I love you all. See you soon.

I survived. After awhile my feet started hurting and I ended up going home and forgetting about the whole thing.

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