Art is Dead

What? You don't believe me? I don't lie. My grandma found him on the sink. She thought his lifeless body was a rock. A pet rock, I guess. When she picked him up and brought him closer to her eyes is when she realized that she was holding yet another one of my fish who had jumped to its demise.

Rest in Peace the Sewer,

Art

A baby's tombstone I discovered in Vallejo, CA

Since I started blogging in August, I've had the grand total of, uh, 4 fish dying:

-7 (named from a Seinfeld episode)
-Soda (named from a Seinfeld episode)
-Omega (he was a Betta fish. Get it?)
-Art (named from a Seinfeld episode)

Well, there aren't very many fish left in the sea bowl now. All I have left is Vandelay (named from a Seinfeld episode), who is nothing without his other half, Art (shh, don't tell him I said that). Art and Vandelay were a team. There just went together. They were like peanut butter and jelly, like salt and pepper, like yogurt and Cheez-its. Vandelay is going to miss Art. I think.

Art's Obituary Oh, Fishy Airy Ofishiary

Art, for the love of Cod, why'd you have to clam up? You should've cried for kelp. Dropped me a line. I could've tried not to be crabby, and would've been touchy-eely to your feelings. Oh, who am I kidding? I would've given you a bass-whooping. That must've been why you acted all koi, as if you were having a whale of time. Why were you hooked on acting fishy? I shouldn't have fallen for this bait, you little shellfish shrimp.

Art, you were named after one of the most notorious non-existent TV characters of all time: Art Vandelay. And now I'm disappointed that you've gone off the air, much like Seinfeld. Now you're exported, like Art Vandelay.

Tuna in soon for the next obituary.

Speed Dating

I'm not someone who possesses any kind of special power (unless you count being able to dribble a basketball through your 6'0" opponent's legs some kind of special power) so I can't foresee the future. So, when I posted The Shining...Uh, I Mean the Shiner, little did I know that I would have 16 dates since then. And, one of them happened to be a hot date, too!

This is true. Strange, I know. Well, actually, I've had about 16 dates within the past two weeks. Seriously, what's going on here, Shannon? To make this even stranger, I went on like, 15 dates last night!

It's called speed dating, people. And I met some interesting people.

So, basically, this speed dating thing turned out to be like you've been on a bunch of blind dates (4 minutes each) with people you don't really have anything in common with. Sounds like the blind date I went on the week before...oh, except that guy and I had one similarity: our height (or lack thereof).

Rock On--this is the name of one of the guys I met. Seriously. Except that his last name isn't spelled exactly like that, but he said that his name is pronounced like Rock On. I told him his parents must have a sense of humor. I think he agreed. I think.

Another guy drew pictures to describe himself and what he likes to do. On the paper, he drew a basketball, pizza, a girl, a quote bubble from the girl's mouth--because she's flirting with him, and BYU.

Our conversation went like this:

Him: ...and then I drew this girl because I like women, ladies, girls, females. But I like everyone. I like guys too.
Me: Well, you probably shouldn't go around telling girls who you just met that you like men.
Him: I'm just saying that I like everyone.
Me: I know. But you still probably shouldn't go around telling girls that you like men...or boys.

...not that there's anything wrong with that.

By the time I had that conversation, we were maybe 45 minutes into the whole process, and I was trying to make conversations interesting...to make a general statement that you like everyone, you can expect comebacks. I could've gone a different route with, Oh, so do you think you would've been friends with Hitler? Or, very simply, I could've just smiled and said, That's so cool! I probably shouldn't have joked with him like that, because I don't think he got that I was joking. Oh well. It only lasted 4 minutes for him.

Towards the end, I started talking to people who I had common interests with, though.

With one guy I talked about PaperBoy and Bubble Bobble for the original Nintendo. That was cool.













With another guy I quoted Dumb and Dumber. We then talked about Seinfeld and Pee Wee's Big Adventure. That was cool.

Another guy told me there were around 500 Star Trek books. He wouldn't tell me how many HE owned, though. That was cool, because really, I don't want to know.

Towards the very end of the thing, after talking to different guys about the same dull subjects:

• Are you in school or working?
• What's your major?
• Where are you originally from?
• What are your hobbies?
• Do you like cheese?

it was this one guy's turn to talk to me. He told me he was so sick of making small talk that he just wanted to demolish the building where this speed dating event was being held. Naturally, I went along with the subject. I would rather hear how other people think than talk about myself the whole time. Wanting to know how he'd demolish the building I ask How would you do it? Start a fire, bomb it? (Spoiler Alert: THIS is the hot date) He went on to tell me that he'd crawl through the vent and have his bird fly throughout the vents and drop bombs in various places. Then, he'd have a dog come in through the building with bombs strapped to it. And, would there be anyone in the building while you blew it up? No. In conclusion, I guess he's a good person...unless the dog or bird were killed in the process. The building we were in was a church, though. If he blew up the church, then he'd actually be killing the Spirit and that's (probably) worse than killing a person, probably. But then again, for killing the Spirit you don't get life in prison. How's that for small talk on a first "date"? After explaining to me how he'd blow up the church he then asked me, Don't you think that's a funny story? Well, I think it's a funny story now. I'm sure when I read about this ten years from now I'll just think, man, I met some interesting people through speed dating.

...not that there's anything wrong with that. Really.

So, speed dating can be interesting. Or interesting. Rock on, speed daters, rock on.

7 in Heaven

After reading the title, I bet you thought this post was going to be about the game Seven Minutes in Heaven. Well, you're gravely mistaken. This post is actually about a fish whose name was 7 and is now up in Heaven (hence the use of the adverb gravely).

I don't know if I would describe today using the adjective lugubrious or melancholy or to use heck yes! Now I got the whole place to myself! because I'm speaking on behalf of Soda, the fish who is the sole survivor of the new fish bowl, who is the beneficiary (benefishiary?) of the rest of the tropical fish flakes, who is now the only recipient of the love I have to give (to tropical fish, that is).

I discovered that my other tropical fish (I say "tropical fish" because I don't exactly know what kind of fish they are), 7, killed himself. Today was a big day for 7, so I can imagine that he's been under a lot of stress and just couldn't take it anymore, so...he jumped. He literally jumped out of his fishbowl. What? You were thinking he jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge? Silly.

This morning I woke up to discover that the aquarium where Soda and 7 lived was leaking. I got them a new place where they could live peacefully--in a vase. I didn't have any fake plants or some cool little fish castle to put into their new habitat, so the bricks would have to suffice. Plus, I figured they would like to swim in the holes. Which they did.

The transition from moving in a rush must've been a hard transition on my poor fish. But, to make 7 feel even worse, he must've been sad to realize that he's been going almost a year without a name. I've just been calling him "that pink fish". I know, I'm a neglectful fish-parent. But, I have a reason for being so bad at naming these fish. See, originally I had bought three tropical fish and was going to name them Prince, Paris, and Blanket. Then I came to realize that Paris isn't a fishy name (okaaaaaay, it is. But Paris Hilton has already claimed that image). Anyways, so I put off naming them for a few months, and when I was on vacation at The Happiest Place on Earth (Disneyland, in case you're not in the loop of things) a couple of months ago, I came home to discover what was left of the red fish--bones mostly--at the bottom of the aquarium. He died a mysterious death. So, I was down to two fish. And today was the day. I had finally decided on names for my two fish--7 and Soda. According to George Costanza, 7 is "a beautiful name for a boy or a girl." Furthermore, he has said, "You look like nice people. I'm gonna help you out. You want a beautiful name? Soda." I just can't pass up George's opinion, so 7 and Soda they were named.

In conclusion, 7 had a bad day because he had to move to a house that didn't suit his needs. They say location, location, location when buying, but poor 7 didn't have a choice that his new home just so happens to be on the counter top in the bathroom. Talk about degrading. Also, he was given a name thanks to some character off a TV show. High expectations. This must've brought his self-esteem to an all-time low. Poor fella. And to top it all off, he's stuck living in a fishbowl where everyone can see what he's doing...and he has to keep from adhering to to 7 Up's once-motto: Make 7 Up yours.

I came home from seeing Knight and Day tonight to discover 7 on the floor. Hard as a rock. Okay, more like as hard as a dead fish who's been on the floor for a few hours. I can't believe he decided to end his pain by jumping the full 3 feet! Horrible. Well, there goes another $2 down the toilet (well, not literally $2, but 7 who was worth $2...I wouldn't ever literally flush $2 down the toilet).

I guess I need to go back to Wal-Mart and buy another fish to replace 7 (okay, I don't really mean replace. No one, nothing, not a single fish could ever fill the void that 7 has left behind). I will name the new tropical fish Art Vandelay, no one would even notice if he really existed or not.

***On a more serious note: if you're thinking about ending your life, don't. It will leave those left behind really, really, really, really lugubrious. Just stick it out and hope that things will get better. Besides, in Utah it's against the law to kill yourself.