Hey Everyone, I just wanted to give a special thanks to group 4 for choosing my blog for their presentation. I really Appreciate it guys.

                                                            Sleeping bag

Hey guys, if you haven’t read it already scroll down the page and check out the entry entitled “Problem Number Two: Lyle’s Special Time,” because this next story is directly related. (I’m now picturing the eyes of my long time readers widening at the mention of that entry). Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t hold onto that story for a bit longer, because when you try to list reasons someone is a bad roommate its pretty damn hard to top vividly describing them masturbating within an arms length above you.  So when this next story happened I made sure to try and get it on paper pretty quickly.

            This one begins with Lyle needing to purchase a sleeping bag, and now that I am on a never-ending quest to put myself in odd situations with the guy, I jumped at the chance to give him a ride. We enter the sporting goods store and a few minutes passed as Lyle mustered up the courage to ask one of the clerks for assistance, and I wandered the outskirts of the shop. Eventually I made my way back over to Lyle who was testing the sleeping bag by hopping, and wriggling around. The combination of the lite green sleeping back with Lyle’s pasty pale complexion made him look like some kind of giant uncoordinated caterpillar.

            Here comes the part that blew my mind. When Lyle unzipped the sleeping bag and stepped out, my jaw dropped in horror at the site in front of me. HE WAS WEARING MY FUCKING SOCKS! Seriously, it was unmistakable. They even had the little patches with my last name on them that my mom insisted on ironing on to prevent anyone from picking them up by accident.

           

            Admittedly I felt partially at fault because I must have thrown away a good percentage of Lyles sock drawer at this point. But what the hell man? I know there isn’t much to this story its self, but try and understand what an impact this had on me. That night I lost a good amount of sleep (and not for the usual reasons). This gave me a lot to think about. For example, “is it possible that he didn’t see the little tags with my name on them?” And “could it be that he is doing this maliciously as a way of getting revenge?” That thought lead to a never-ending loop of “does he know that I’m one hundred percent aware of what he does at night in the top bunk? And now, I know that he knows that I know, but does he know I know he knows I know. “

            In retrospect I see that if I had just called him out the first time, and told him to stop, instead of waiting to vent by blogging angrily about him on the internet, this all could have been avoided. But hey, if The Social Network taught me anything it’s that this very same thing worked out for Mark Zuckerberg.

(See, I can relate this to class)

                                                The Piercing

Hey Everyone. Let me start by apologizing for not posting in a while, but trust me when I tell you that its not because Lyle has gotten any better. In fact so much has happened since my last post that I am having some difficulty deciding what I want to clue you guys in on first. I guess one of the more entertaining experiences for me was Lyle’s ear Piercing.

            This particular story begins with me going out of my way to put myself in situations with Lyle that might be worth reporting back to you, my loyal followers. No it wasn’t the most fun experience, but no great piece of writing is achieved without sacrifice.

With that in mind, I jumped at the opportunity to take Lyle to get his ear pierced.  Try to understand that I am not the kind of guy who is particularly keen on piercings of any kind, so I don’t really know what’s the common place scenario is for this kind of thing, but the shop Lyle picked out sure as hell was not the kind of place I would let some stranger stab me with a needle. I don’t want to sound un-manly but this was one of those Goth, black metal type places, where every employee is wearing white and black makeup and reading hell-raiser comics.  

I’m having trouble describing the man we dealt with directly but had this been a Wal-Mart, he would have been wearing a nametag that read “Hello my name is: Mordakai the unholy blood-guzzler, Have a nice day.”

After an awkward second or two of just staring at each other, Lyle mustered up the courage to state his purpose for being there, and said that he would like his ear pierced. Immediately the guy reaches below the desk and slams a rubber ear (covered in piercings) on the table. “So what are you thinking brother, something like this?” he said as he produced a massive ring that looked fit for a bull’s nose. Lyle being the generic indie- folk loving college student replied by saying, “no I think I’m feeling something a bit smaller. “Oh ok, I got you, how’s this?” said Mordakai the unholy blood-guzzler, producing an ever so slightly smaller earing. At this point it became clear that Lyle and Mordakai the unholy blood-guzzler had two completely different ideas in mind. Lyle wanted a stud, and Mordakai the unholy blood-guzzler was thinking more along the lines of a bracelet.

This went on about two more times, until finally Mordakai the unholy blood-guzzler exclaimed “Ok, I’m not going to let you go any smaller than this (producing one finial earing), or everyone is going to think you’re a little fairy.” “Um, ok,” Lyle, replied, and they settled on an earing size that was significantly Larger that what Lyle Wanted, and smaller than Mordakai the unholy blood-guzzler’s usual customer.

            After that, they took Lyle into the back room, and unfortunately I was not permitted to follow them. This did however give me the interesting experience of making small talk with the other metal heads working in the shop, and we all had a good chuckle when we heard Lyles shriek through the wall. Just a few minutes later Lyle walked out grinning with a massive iron ring dangling from one ear.  ________________
That’s about the end of this story, but I feel its worth mentioning that as I sit here writing, Lyle is sitting on the floor next to me wedeling a stick he found, and singing summer loving from grease.