lol that won't make sense for a few more sentences.

Anyways, it's been a fast couple of days. Because of the effects of this permanent summer, I'm not exactly sure what happened which day...but so far, here's the deal. 2 days ago, I just kind of sat around and played some computer games. Matt called, and we did some errands, picking up equipment from Jon's, Hergott's, etc. Then, he and I drove Bryan to work, came back here, and parted ways. I went out to dinner with my dad, for an AMAZING prime rib at Montana's. And that was that day.

So, yesterday was my target interview...I got the job! I guess they really needed someone in electronics that knows shit, and I...know...shit. So...I'll be trained in a couple other things, and I'm pretty much guarenteed 40 hours. Which is good, because this goddamn credit card, I've already spent my first 2 checks. : )

So, I bought the 2nd season of Alias, and 2 "Lamb of God" cd's in celebration...Went home. Jon called, and I went with him to get the rack case for his new amp/tuner/etc. We got it, and spent like 25 minutes playing with screws. This thing is a BEAST. Suitable. So yeah, after hanging there a while, I went home. I went with mom, who picked up Greg, and dropped us off at Kory's (Greg being the guitarist of D2D, Kory the drummer). There, I spent an hour or two tearing down, fixing, and re-setting up Kory's now-massive drumset. If you thought my setup was overkill, well fuck you, but this is TRUE overkill...seven toms. About as many cymbals as I have...Actually, I might still win in the cymbal department, but whatever. Then, we wen't with Greg's girlfriend and one of her friends to see Resident Evil 2. It was AMAZING, I loved it. I know it just came out yesterday, so I won't ruin anything for anyone....but my advice is, watch the first one, then go see this one. I have the 1st one on DVD if someone wants to see it...and I would be more than happy to go see this one again and again!

So, today is a good day. I was sitting in the bathroom late last night, which counts as today. Saw sitting on the top of the mail (I have a weird family) something that looked like a Tops paycheck with a stamp on it. It was! Thet paid me for a personal day or something, so it's a check for like $45. Perfect timing! In a few hours, I'm going with Jon and Jen to Darien Lake...so, ultimate third wheel time once again, but at least I get to ride the rides.

Then, tonight, is an AMM show at Classic Roxx, the first in a while...I'm pumped! We've been practicing a lot, and I'm finally feeling a lot more comfortable with the songs. I think I might bring my dad's guitar along in case of emergency. But yes, I'm psyched for that as well.

So...there isn't really much more to tell. I'm gonna go work on my room some more in a few minutes. lol I know it sounds like I always say that...just understand, it's THAT BAD. So...off I go.

By the way, right under this, is the Fisher essay...Read it!

THIS is the essay on Mike Fisher I wrote in English over the summer. Enjoy!


Vince Mayer 7/22/04
English 12 Short Story

"THE EFFECTS OF MICHAEL FISHER
ON THE HUMAN MIND"

Every man, in his own way, shape, or form, knows Michael Fisher. Not necessarily the actual Michael Fisher that I have had the experience of meeting, but someone to fill in such a role in their lives. Someone who's very existence makes you wonder if there even is a God, and if so, if he may not be somewhat retarded. I would never assume to be smart enough to know God's will, but the very existence of Michael Fisher is cause for concern nonetheless.

The tip of Michael Fisher's head measures to about 62 inches from the floor, and the extent of his ability to make a person such as myself question the existence of a God knows no limits. He is by far the most annoying person one will ever meet through the course of their lives, and a person would never forget even just a casual conversation with such a beast. And so, I give to you, my own experiences with the illustrious Michael Fisher.

I met him at a friend's house, some years ago, and at the time he was not so bad. I mean, grown men would tear off their own heads in agony after just a minute of exposure, but I somehow was able to tolerate him for a good hour, attempting to play a video game. I didn't think much of this chance meeting until much later, while attempting to understand where he came from and why he was there. But no pain can ever match what was to be thrust upon me when he began taking guitar lessons from my father.

Mike is a horrible guitar player, just to get this out of the way. His main inspirations at the time were old punk bands, specifically the "Dead Kennedy's". My father and I were forced to listen to a song of theirs on occasion, in order to help teach Mike to replicate such a cacophony. The vocalist to this group sounded as if he had a bowling ball in each nostril, and spoke of things such as destroying the government. The other musicians in the band were, at best, predictable and very much lame, at least by my own standards, and as a musician I was bothered that such a thing even existed. From time to time, Mike would attempt to show me something he had written, and it would go like this. He would play the same note chord 8 times. Then, he would take a pause to reposition his fingers, and play a different note or chord?8 times. He, catching on that one cannot stop between each and every note, would then slide completely out of rhythm to the third note or chord, play it 8 times, pause, reposition his fingers, and play the final note of the phrase (8 times.) Granted, yes, most "popular music" these days consists of a band playing perhaps four different chords, over and over, but this experience was unique all unto itself. And that, is only the start of it.

Eventually he became more comfortable at my house, much to my dismay. When waiting for a ride home, he would come over to my seat at the computer, put his elbows down on the desk, and stare at the screen. If this were some pretty girl, I would not have minded in the least, but this was Mike Fisher, breathing in my ear, reading the contents of the screen. I turned to him and asked "If I told you to go away and leave me a lone right now, would you?" And his reply, "Nah?not really. So, could you hear my lesson? How am I playing now?" I resisted the urge to tell him just how terrible of a player he really was, so I just went about my business.

It got worse. One time, he came in a few minutes early for his lesson (which took place in my dining room, since our garage apartment was under construction). He whips open the door and yells "Feeee-lix, I'm Hooooome!" (my father's name is Felix.) At this point I was undecided whether I wanted to commit murder or suicide, I ended up choosing neither for the time being. Another time, at the end of his lesson, he decided he wanted to borrow a CD. So, he marched right up the stairs, and walked in to my room! I was awake, not totally naked, but certainly not dressed, and quite horrified that he had de-sanctified my bedroom with his presence. But yet, it got worse.

I too, play the electric guitar. I am not like him, in that I have a sense of rhythm, purpose, and an idea of how a song can, should, and usually is played. He would constantly ask me to "jam with him", the idea being that I would teach him everything I know (because the music I play is far different from his, it is closer than my dad's preferences of blues and jazz). Every single day, in school (that's right, I got to see him EVERY DAY), he would come out of nowhere, obviously stalking me or something, and ask "So, how's guitar going?"?to which I would reply "It's going all right, we had a mild argument about which strings it preferred, but in the end we agreed, and now me and Mr. Guitar are the best of friends.", or something to that effect. After a few rotten experiences, I learned that for the sake of my own sanity, I shall never play with this creature again, but yet every single day, he would ask if I wanted to "jam with him".

My dad dropped him as a student, because of the absolute invasion in to our household he was becoming, and just because his every word suggests to my ears that it's time to bleed. He even once came in with a video tape, made us put it in, and attempted to have my dad show him a 2-second guitar riff, found at the end of a car commercial. My dad replied "It's a whole style of playing. I can teach you notes forever, but this is beyond mechanically moving your fingers, it has a soul behind it". That didn't signify the end of lessons, per se, but it was pretty much the deciding factor.

And, it wasn't over. I went to a big heavy metal concert at the Showplace theater with my cousin and best friend, and my dad was nice enough to invite Mike Fisher to come along. My dad only dropped us off, so he did not have to endure the chaos that ensued. For starters, his "ticket" really wasn't a ticket at all, but when he went online and ordered it, he wrote down some random number off the website on a piece of paper, and brought his mother's credit card to verify his identity. What an idiot?anyways, so we get to the venue, and began waiting in line, it was 6:00, and the doors were supposed to open at 7:00. He began asking me all of these STUPID questions, including, but not limited to: "So, when are the doors going to open?" (I don't know, they'll open them when they're ready!), or "So, how big is this place?" (because if the venue isn't to his liking, we would surely leave, immediately.) I will tell you the night was torture, he's there in some punk T-shirt, in a room full of big black-shirted heavy metal kids, and just so out of place it was ridiculous. He had this thing where he would attempt to bang his head for about 15 seconds, stop, bend forwards while holding his back, and then return standing. He complained the whole time about having to stand, at one point he even asked "My head hurts from all this headbanging, can I lean on you a second?" "NO!" But, I did survive. And I sort of wish I hadn't.

This concert was talked about excessively, every time he came up to me in the hall. He bought a T-shirt there, and all of the sudden loved heavy metal. So, therefore, I must want to spend every minute of my life talking about metal bands, and guitar technique (I'm self taught, mind you, so it was no fun at ALL.) He actually wrote a memoir for his Creative Writing class about how this concert "changed his life". I read it, and fell out of my chair laughing (He made himself sound SO cool, meanwhile he was the classic example of the one person that does NOT belong.) I was in such total disbelief that such a memoir existed, if I were the sort of person to go on alcohol binges, that would have been one of those nights.

To come to a conclusion, he began sort of "stalking" a girl in my class, who happened to be a very good friend of mine, and who I would not allow to be subjected to Mike the way I had. So, together we evaded him for the rest of the year, and now that I am no longer in high school, I hope I shall never see him again. I will close with an ACTUAL conversation I had on the internet with him, so that you may understand just what I was forced to endure, and why I would be the perfect person to marry, as that I have more patience than a priest.

Mike: hey whats up
Vince: nothing, really
Vince: you?
Mike: wrote a parody u wanna see the lyrics
Mike: do u
Vince: not really, nothing personal but I'm not feeling too good, my already strained sense of humor is more or less on vacation
Mike : its funny though
Mike (9:10:10 PM): trust me
Vince (9:10:18 PM): if you insist
Mike (9:13:33 PM): its called diarehha (sorry if its spelled wrong)
Verse
-Sitting on the john
-Looking at my palms
-As i am pooing
-Even more is brewing
-It's getting quite stinky
-Damn poo on my pinky
-Ran out of tp
-God let me be free

Mike (9:13:36 PM): lol
Mike (9:14:27 PM): funny or disgusting?
Vince (9:15:13 PM): humor, yes
Vince (9:15:15 PM): mine, no
Mike (9:15:45 PM): what do u mean by mine, no
Vince (9:15:59 PM): not my humor
Vince (9:16:19 PM): I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm a little beyond crap jokes, seriously
Mike (9:17:09 PM): well i wanted to write a parody and i tried writing one about hot pockets but im not sure if its very good
Mike (9:18:03 PM): do u wanna hear it
Vince (9:18:21 PM): not particularly, but again if you insist...
Mike (9:20:39 PM): verse
i got a craving for hot pockets
need to satisify my need
lost girlfriend and gained 10 pounds
threw it all away for hot pockets
Mike (9:21:19 PM): how could i improve that?
Vince (9:21:38 PM): If I were to post these on the internet with your name and your picture, and your phone number, what would you do?
Mike (9:22:14 PM): hurt u cuz they probably suck
Vince (9:22:53 PM): well, when you're writing, think when you're done, is this something you would want others to hear?
Vince (9:23:17 PM): Because if not then it's kind of self-defeating, isn't it?
Mike (9:24:43 PM): thats true but there not done yet there just ideas and i thought since ur one of the funniest people i no, i thought u could help me with my ideas
Vince (9:25:23 PM): If I give you ideas, they're not your ideas, they're my ideas
Mike (9:26:16 PM): again true but what about giving me a suggestion on what i could do like how could i make it funnier
Mike (9:26:50 PM): whats bad about it?
Vince (9:26:53 PM): I don't find poop funny
Vince (9:27:01 PM): 5th grade ended a LONG time ago
Vince (9:27:12 PM): since then was 6th grade
Vince (9:27:14 PM): and 7th
Mike (9:27:15 PM): but the hot pockets song
Vince (9:27:16 PM): and 8th
Vince (9:27:18 PM): and 9th
Vince (9:27:20 PM): and 10th
Vince (9:27:22 PM): and 11th
Vince (9:27:24 PM): and 13th
Vince (9:27:27 PM): (maryvale math)
Mike (9:27:55 PM): lol c ur funny now help me or u shall suffer my rath
Mike (9:27:58 PM): lol
Vince (9:28:06 PM): wrath*, Mr. Maryvale english
Mike (9:28:27 PM): whatever
Vince (9:28:49 PM): No can do, you gotta work that out on your own
Mike (9:29:22 PM): apox on u (the simpsons)
Vince (9:29:30 PM): fair enough
Vince (9:29:32 PM): I gotta get going
Vince (9:29:42 PM): later
Mike (9:29:46 PM): later