Happy Birthday, My Italian Friend.

I made a bunch of birthday plans, but realized that I probably wouldn't be invited to the party I made for you, so I'm posting it on this blog. I figured we could embrace your heritage in this most festive event, so before you read this, just know that I am not racist. Just incredibly thoughtful.

Games!

• Pin the nose on the Italian. People with absolutely no hand-eye coordination can play this game, so it's fun for the whole family!
• Log on to Facebook and play Mafia Wars! Get it? Because you're Italian?
• Watch "The Godfather" and gamble on random events (Ex. All of the money in my shirt pocket says Sollozzo gets shot before McCluskey).

Food!

• I don't really think this needed mentioning, but I'm bringing spaghetti pizza with extra spaghetti!
• My "cousin" is a butcher, so there will be a live display of lamb-chopping goodness.
• Tomato Cheesecake. Good, and good for ya, too.

Fun!

• I made sure that everyone would get you a kitchen knife set, just in case we have any party crashers.
• We will be bobbing for tomatoes in tomato sauce. And pasta. And many other Italian things.
• In everybody's party bags? Stock market insiders. You know what I mean.

Happy Birthday my Italian friend!

Obama!!! What do you think you're doing?!?

Over the past several months, trivial issues such as unemployment, public healthcare, and government spending have saturated the modern media with pointless questions, none of which will ever be answered until Obama addresses the most heavy-pressing issue of them all: Box Top inflation.

I strolled through the cereal isle just the other day, clipboard in hand, when I saw the most abhorrent injustice this nation has ever upheld. Two Box Tops on one box of Cocoa Puffs. Really, Barack? Are the cereal giants of America going to get away with this infraction of the Constitution? Some of the greatest minds of post-Colonial America drafted those hallowed papers in hope for a future America free from the shackles of Frosted Flakes or Wheat Thins!

Box Tops were propelled into the U.S. economy in the Clinton era, beginning as a harmless, innocent way to promote the well-being of students and their schools. Box Tops immediately incited obesity in children across the nation, as contests were stimulated in learning environments to raise money for schools, and the typical 5th grader would consume 3 to 4 boxes of cereal over a two-hour span on average. The winning class of the given school would possibly enjoy an ice cream party, only serving to fatten the innocent children more so.

Box Tops are also the primary causes of sudden infant death syndrome, liver cancer, and the common cold. And yes, there is absolutely no cure for the common cold.

I assumed the group of cereal boxes was something of a fluke or a mistake, so I moved on, and proceeded to evaluate the frozen yogurt section. My supermarket pastime was unanticipatedly interrupted when I spotted a box of Toaster Strudel with yet another two box tops. Last I checked, most boxes only have one top, don't they? DON'T THEY?!

So what does this mean for our already-crumbling America? This may turn into a double-take of Canada's Box Top Reform, initiated by their emperor (or whatever they have in Canada) in 1985, during an 18 month recession, as the Box Tops were tearing apart the foundation of their economy. That's why their dollar is worth more than ours, I think. The only difference between now and then is that our economy is already in jeopardy, and the unsupervised doubling of box tops is sure to bring this nation's salubrity to an end.

How to prevent this? Eat more Box Tops. Not cereal. Box Tops. It's the only way. So long as all of the Box Tops in Anglo-America are consumed and digested, this beautiful nation will never see its end. Once you're done with the Box Top, give the cereal/frozen pastry/brownie mix to a homeless guy. He needs it more than you do, plus I hear it hurts to eat with liver cancer, which you now have from consuming box tops. We still admire your sacrifice for this country, though.

You've come to the right place...

Who is responsible for such obscene pictures? Try the doods who posed for this in the first place. Spread the word. Soon there will be five billion 5 minute-long Youtube videos on the web featuring only this picture.

Did you miss me?

It has literally been HOURS since I've been on my blog. I guess I'm just too busy with my day job...

I took a picture of a kid at his desk who was horrified when he saw that I hadn't posted anything for half a week (you can see him typing a strongly-worded letter to me), and it got published in some magazine in Bangladesh, but now someone has photoshopped it into this:

Darn you technology. Darn you to hel.

To all the fine ladies and gentlefolk out there who aren't sure what they're doing here, but are here nevertheless...

http://illiterateblog.blogspot.com/

Now before you start ripping off your clothes, falling to your knees and praising the Lord almighty, you should know that I'll still be posting here. You won't get off that easy. Basically, you're just getting more of me.

Before me and my pals get ridiculously rich and famous off this blog, and people start ripping MY clothes off for eBay's sake, I just want to say that I'll still remember all you little people (Atley, Kelly, Daniel, Conan, Kanye, Opera, Barack, and the rest of you), and maybe I'll even let you touch me or something. I'll even pull out a hair or two from my own head, just for you guys (excluding Daniel, because who knows of all the nasty things he'll do with it).

As you may have been able to infer from the title, this is an illiterate blog, written by the illiterate, for the illiterate. Since I have soooo many friends in this virtual world of ours, only about one-sixth of the work will be mine, so if Jared says something offensive, it cannot be pinned on me. If you're reading this, then you're obviously on my blog (or I've achieved globalization and this is on CNN or something), and ergo, I am obviously your favorite. Make sure to read my work and say amazing things about my personality, so that Bigface and the gang don't decide to excommunicate me.

Have fun, and be safe on this fabulous Groundhog's Day night.

10 things that you should probably not do over the summer if you haven't already because in all honesty I should know. *GASP*

1. Make lists on your blog. When I look to see if someone I know is an utterly pathetic loser, this is the first thing I check for.

2. Rub pollen all over your face. It really is soothing, believe it or not, until you find out that you're allergic, by virtue of the fact that your tongue has now doubled in size and has turned magenta, while your eyes are inflamed, your nose unfunctioning, and your lips have taken on the same characteristics as your tongue. It may be a bit hard to notice if you're unconscious.

3. Jump into your pool. Because what if you miss?

4. Make a lemonade stand for all the little children selling "Aaron's Hard Lemonade". I saw Mike's commercial, and thought I'd give it a go. In case you're wondering, all you do is take lemonade and freeze it so that it's hard, but don't drink it around parents. For whatever reason, parents get really upset when they see kids drinking my hard lemonade.

5. Spend too much time being a punk on Yahoo Answers. There are far too many people on that site who are way too ready to report you if you have a hard time spellign, or aren't completely aware of the parameters of your bathtub.

6. Get sleep. It's drastically overrated anyways, not to mention that if you get less sleep, then you are awake more. I personally spend all my awake hours doing nothing, so why sleep and do nothing when you could be awake and do nothing? It's simple economics.

7. Play "Mercy" with your cat. I'd much rather dance on rusty nails, or maybe take a shower in broken glass. Or better yet, sleep.

9. Skip numbers while making lists. I was taught this by a certain someone who described this as a habit that "will make you look stupid", and I agree 100%. Stoopidity is a very common problem on this site, so we can't be skipping any numbers, or even making lists, for that matter.

10. Write in invisible language. Most people cannot read it too well.

A "Wipeout" Review

I have recently become very jealous of my dear friend Jared lately, because he makes reviews of movies. But not just any movies. Movies that I have never heard of before. Now that I think about it, I am not jealous at all, but the statement made for a great hook, and it probably got him to read this far before realizing that this post will be utter trash just like all my others. Joke's on you, Jared.

But back to reviews. I just made one. You can find it positioned directly below this particular sentence.

"I watched the multi-award-winning hit TV show "Wipeout" this evening. I'm actually not sure at all if it has won any awards, or if it has been deemed "hit" by the American media, but I imagine it is not far away. The show was filled with inspiration, emotion, and needless to say, wipeouts. I laughed, I cried (from laughing), and I smiled (while suppressing my laughter), all in the course of an hour.

The whole show was about watching random people fall, crash, slide, fall, climb, jump, fall, crash, slip, bruise, fall, wipe, and out. There was a lot of mud, so anyone who doesn't like dirty television should definitely avoid this. Unfortunately for some of you sickos, there was no blood on this show, and if there was, you couldn't see it because of the mud, so don't get too excited because people get hurt. However, "Wipeout" does target sickos in the sense that there are plenty of flailing limbs. I know a sicko whose name is Jared who likes that kind of stuff, so there are definitely some of you out there.

There are also announcers on the show "Wipeout", as if wiping out was really a sport. They never really say anything important, so deaf people can still enjoy the show. What they do say is irrelevant but comical (in a funny sort of way), so the blind can also enjoy the show. I guess you could say it's a show for old people. If you're deaf AND blind, then I'm not sure why you own a television, or even why you're on my blog. I'd tell you to go away, but you can't hear/see me.

If you are a fan of happy endings, this show is not for you. They reward the winner with $50,000 dollars, which is essentially the downside to all game shows in my opinion. Why give that money to some random person with strong fingers and immunity to dizziness when you could feed an entire third-world country for a year. Or even better; when you could feed me for a month. This just makes no sense in my opinion, and it played the biggest role in bringing down the overall rating of the show.

Rating? B+. And that's because I'm a very thoughtful person.

A Prediction of what will Happen During the First 10 Minutes of the First Period on the First Day of School

Teacher: Hello. My name is Mrs. Teacher.

Class in Unison: GOOD MORNING MRS. TEACHER.

Teacher: Good Morning. This year I have SO much to teach you. But we shall start with what we all did over Summer break. I'll go first. When I got home after the last day of school, I found out that my husband had bought a very, very expensive car for me. I figured, "What the heck! Let's go for a joy ride!", so I drove it to the Phoenix airport, and we hopped on a flight to France. We then went bungee jumping off the Eiffel Tower, and participated in a Croissant-eating contest. I finished first, of course [as she rubs her stomach vigorously], while my husband finished second. Afterwards, we went kayaking off the beaches of Normandy, where the water saw a tad more croissant than it wanted to. We flew back here, where I made a late audition to the show "Dancing with the Stars", but I was so good that they had to kick someone out of the top 20 to put me in. I could not participate after the doctor found a stress fracture in my foot, which I would imagine resulted from the couple of days I participated in training camp with the Cardinals. I was taking down Fitzgerald for a 5-yard loss off a screen play, but the victory came at a price. I took a private jet to Maui where I could relax the pain away; doctor's orders. Now I'm back here to teach you guys!

[Class applauds]

Now who would like to go next?

[Stew Dent raises his hand]

The floor is all yours, Mr. Dent.

Stew: I, too, received a very, very expensive car, for my half-birthday, of course. I drove my family to Disney Land where I personally eye-witnessed the assassination of Hannah Montana. I think it was an angry mom. They found her look-alike cousin from Bulgaria to finish her show, and plan to make this season their last. The government doesn't want you to know, which is why you haven't even heard this story before. Luckily for you all, my dad found a position in the Secret Service after his 10-year career with the New York Yankees. Of course, we flew to NYC to see the new Yankees stadium for the fifth or sixth time, where my dad and I played catch with Jeter and the crew. All of the Yankees say I have a future in the Major Leagues, so I'll be signing autographs at the end of class. A friend and I went scuba diving soon afterwards, where we uncovered an unrecorded shipwreck as well as a sack of doubloons, which we have yet to tell the government (aka my dad) about. Now I'm here.

[Class applauds]

Mrs. Teacher: Who's next?

[Al Umni raises his hand and begins to speak]

Al: Needless to say, I was given a very, very expensive car, as well. It was a hybrid, because that is the way in which I roll. I found out that one could power such a car off a heterogeneous mixture of cotton candy and tomato juice, and would receive up to twice the amount of mileage. I drove it down to the Amazon rain forest, and discovered 3 new species of bird, all of which I named after myself. I went on a wild boar hunt with the natives and built my own shelter with two sticks, the bark of an Aliyorian tree (another discovery of mine), a box of paper clips, and the piece of Bubble Yum that I am currently chewing. I was taken from my tent by Brazilian savages, who tied me up, and prepared to have me sacrificed to their god. I escaped in the dead of night, and stole a motorboat, which I navigated to Panama in two and a half days. I ran out of gasoline about half way there, but fortunately there was still some tomato juice and cotton candy in my satchel. Once I took a train home, I discovered a cure to 4 strains of cancer, which I will not disclose to anyone at this moment. That is all.

[Class applauds]

Mrs. Teacher: Anyone else? Aaron! How about you?

Aaron: Well, um, yeah. I did some stuff on my blog, um, went to the grocery store, picked up some cheese, yeah. And, um, well, I made a sandwich, and I ate it, and it was good, um, yeah. That's pretty much all I remember.

[Class explodes with laughter]

Mrs. Teacher: Z. O. M. G. What a loser!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Aaron takes out a .5 (lead measurement) and attempts to stab himself, but the lead breaks, and his attempt has failed. He makes a break for the door.]

Mrs. Teacher: Don't let the door hit you on your way out!!!!

[Sure enough, it does.]

Too Easy

http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20090606155938AAMaUBN

My Failed Plan

Before you say it, I'm well aware that most (if not all) of my previous plans are "failed". However, I cannot post them all, because I'd have to spend the whole summer on the computer (which I'll probably be doing, anyways) updating my blog. This is just a story of what happened today, at 12:05:02.

So today was my last day of school, and when the bell rang for us to all leave, I thought it'd be a great idea to break out in song while exiting my Spanish class. Perhaps my classmates would begin to sing with me, and then they would somehow already know the choreography that I had planned. As you could probably tell from the time above, I conjured up this idea in about, oh, two seconds?

I began with, "TOGETHER! TOGETHER! TOGETHER EVERYONE!", in my loudest singing voice, and the noisy hallway became silent in the course of a split-second. I began with the next verse, but there was still no singing. Of the 70 people there, 2 looked like they were going to jump me, 3 were smiling, and the other 65 were either staring or burying their heads in their hands with shame. All 70 were avoiding direct eye contact.

But I was very encouraged by the three that smiled, so I continued, this time with my choreography. Everyone had stopped dead in their tracks by now, watching my dance, but no one would come within 10 feet of me. I got really tired after dancing, until I fainted, and woke up in the hospital. It turns out that I was just dehydrated, and that there was nothing wrong with me. I was in the hospital from the 70 people who almost beat me to death.

My school is sooooooo gay.