Last weekend, I attended the University of Oregon football game VS. the PSU Vikings with the Polish Beauty Weronika. Not only did I witness a complete slaughter (My apologies Vikings, or as the game program would tactfully say, Pilots), but I witnessed a stare that will forever send chills down my spine. A stare that will forever be engraved in my memory and serve only to haunt me in my nightmares. Fortunately, the stare was not meant for me, but for the lovely Miss W.
The stare-down occurred right after half-time as the Ducks were heading back onto the field to continue their merciless ass-whoopin’. We were standing up in a ledge above the entrance cheering the players on when all of a sudden one of Miss W’s former heartbreaks, LilJon, makes an appearance. The first time we saw him before half time though, he looked harmless. He was bent over with his ass in the air attempting to gracefully pick up the mouth-guard that somehow popped out of his mouth. A sight that would never strike fear into one’s heart. But when we saw him the second time, I hardly even recalled who I was staring at. Maybe I was too distracted by the fact I was peeing my pants. I’ll never know. But I was scared shitless.
It's actually ironic. The first time I see him I'm peeing my pants out of joy because of this mouth-guard episode yet the second time I lay eyes on him, I'm peeing my pants out of fear.
LilJon walked slowly down through the gates, looked up, spotted the Miss W and just stared. Stared with the utmost focus and concentration, it was soul-chilling. I knew that if his mouth-guard popped out then, he would have ignored it this time and just stared. I was scared for my friend and was feeling rather uncomfortable myself. I had never seen a pair of eyes with such burning desire. LilJon stared her down as if she was the endzone and he would take extreme measures to achieve this touchdown. I'll just say that if Weronika was his mouth-guard, he would make sure she'd NEVER fall outta his mouth.
Then again, I could have completely misinterpreted this “glance” and perhaps he wanted nothing more than to inflict physical harm on her because she had previously broken his heart. Either way, I feared for Weronika’s personal safety and emotional well-being. LilJohn did not break this stare for at least ten seconds. I was waiting for him to scale the building with his pads and rubber mouth-guard. Let’ just say if a stare could kill, this Polish girl would be cookin’ her last Perogi.
He finally passed under us and we were both able to breath again. After we both discuss how incredibly uncomfortable that was, we walked around fully alert and avoided all mouth guards at all costs. Go Ducks.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
A Saturated Surprise
The lovely people on the Veneta bus were unusally quiet this morning. I didn't even feel as if I was aboard the right bus. Granted, I do plug in my headphones immediately upon arrival to avoid any interactions whatsoever. Yes, I am an introvert on the bus but I have my reasons. Also, my "all-knowing" father strongly suggests I do not develop any "attachments" to the patrons of the Veneta bus. I always take his advice to heart when concerning love, money, and of course, the bus.
I looked around to see just how many people were aboard and there happened to be a good turn-out. Everyone was just staring out into space in an eerie, uncomfortable fashion. I kept my eyes forward as well and looked forward to my eight hour day at the beloved library.
I made it to the Eugene station and then proceeded to board the EmX down to campus. I took a modest seat right next to the door but as I sat down, it was too late. I could feel my jeans slowly being saturated with some mysterious, questionable liquid. Shit.
To add a little cherry on top of this situation, the liquid was freezing cold and a huge spot formed on my ass.
I stood up immediately and could only think of one thing: urine.
I knew people pooped on the benches surrounding the buses so someone peeing on the bus wasn’t that difficult to imagine. No stretch of the imagination whatsoever. I was completely distraught and asked a fellow passenger if my butt appeared wet.
She simply smiled and responded, “Yea, honey you definitely sat in something. You should sniff your hand and make sure it ain’t piss. I’ve seen people piss up in the bus all the time. They just come up in here drunk as shit and relieve themselves in seats jus like that one there.” Her finger pointed to my supposedly “soiled” seat.
I was overjoyed by such news. Over. Joyed.
My heart sunk. I really looked good in these jeans. I could only visualize the appeal of my ass with a huge wet spot on it. But I had a feeling it wasn’t pee just because the mysterious liquid was piercing cold. Unless this individual had something wrong internally and had freezing piss, I was ok. Alas, anything can occur at the Eugene Station though.
I slowly drew my hand to my big Irish nose, and inhaled with caution. To my immediate relief, I smelt nothing. Fortunately, it was only water. I hope. Have no fears though for I have taken the proper precautions and threw those babies in the wash as soon as I got home. I did not reek of urine throughout the day and that was a major plus. All I gained from this experience was a giant wet spot on my ass and some minimal ridicule at work. I just held a book to my ass the first two hours and proceeded to do what a book-shelver does best: shelve.
I looked around to see just how many people were aboard and there happened to be a good turn-out. Everyone was just staring out into space in an eerie, uncomfortable fashion. I kept my eyes forward as well and looked forward to my eight hour day at the beloved library.
I made it to the Eugene station and then proceeded to board the EmX down to campus. I took a modest seat right next to the door but as I sat down, it was too late. I could feel my jeans slowly being saturated with some mysterious, questionable liquid. Shit.
To add a little cherry on top of this situation, the liquid was freezing cold and a huge spot formed on my ass.
I stood up immediately and could only think of one thing: urine.
I knew people pooped on the benches surrounding the buses so someone peeing on the bus wasn’t that difficult to imagine. No stretch of the imagination whatsoever. I was completely distraught and asked a fellow passenger if my butt appeared wet.
She simply smiled and responded, “Yea, honey you definitely sat in something. You should sniff your hand and make sure it ain’t piss. I’ve seen people piss up in the bus all the time. They just come up in here drunk as shit and relieve themselves in seats jus like that one there.” Her finger pointed to my supposedly “soiled” seat.
I was overjoyed by such news. Over. Joyed.
My heart sunk. I really looked good in these jeans. I could only visualize the appeal of my ass with a huge wet spot on it. But I had a feeling it wasn’t pee just because the mysterious liquid was piercing cold. Unless this individual had something wrong internally and had freezing piss, I was ok. Alas, anything can occur at the Eugene Station though.
I slowly drew my hand to my big Irish nose, and inhaled with caution. To my immediate relief, I smelt nothing. Fortunately, it was only water. I hope. Have no fears though for I have taken the proper precautions and threw those babies in the wash as soon as I got home. I did not reek of urine throughout the day and that was a major plus. All I gained from this experience was a giant wet spot on my ass and some minimal ridicule at work. I just held a book to my ass the first two hours and proceeded to do what a book-shelver does best: shelve.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
The Toothless Wonder
The Eugene Bus Station is a place of daring adventure, unexpected mystery, and hidden wonder. Once you enter the humble station, one never truly knows where they will go, who they will meet, and why they met that one unforgettable traveler. Personally, I look forward to the Eugene Bus Station every time because that place is full of inspiration for CochTalk. There’s always bound to be some sort of action whether it’s crazies discretely pooping on benches or weirdos dancing publicly with their oversized headphones. But please, I definitely encourage others to dance as if no one is watching. Especially at the Eugene Bus Station. It’s expected and everything is welcomed in the lovely city of Eugene, Oregon.
As I made my traditional walk to Bus 93, the Veneta Bus, I was stopped by some estranged woman yelling at me. She asked me the same question 3 times until I finally realized she was talking to me. I always try to remain oblivious and introverted at the bus station to avoid any altercations of any kind. I never even attempt to maintain eye contact with anyone. They could take it as disrespect Papa Cochran says. But despite all my efforts, today, my methods failed.
The rough woman asked me from afar, “Hey! So, when do I get this massage you promised me?!”
I was taken aback. Not only by this woman’s rugged appearance but also by the fact she knew I administered massages every once in a while and I supposedly promised HER one. I walked closer hoping to perhaps recognize this woman but alas, I could not. Maybe she was in my same Shiatsu massage class?
Her face could have been a face from my past but I couldn’t be sure. I almost thought she was Linda, the Queen Bitch who rode my bus, but her missing front tooth threw me off. I walked closer, gulped at an audible level, and simply responded, “Oh, hey you! Um, how’s it goin? How you been?” trying to keep my cool. I didn’t want to show any disrespect now. This lady wasn’t afraid to lose some teeth and I do happen to enjoy brushing mine on a daily basis. All of them.
“I’m good, I’m good,” She smiled baring that toothless wonder of a smile.
“So, has John still been stalkin’ you ?” she asked inquisitively.
Ok, who the hell is John? I had no idea who she was referring to and simply thanked God this “John” character wasn’t stalking me. Did she know something about me I didn’t? Do I have a stalker named John? Is he missing a tooth too?
“Oh, no. He done stopped long time ago. Is he, uh, still stalkin’ you?” I asked trying to convey a tough demeanor.
She just shook her head no and smiled. I actually kind of hoped John was ok.
The toothless wonder’s two friends showed up, who looked equally as tough, so I decided it was my cue to peace out, respectfully.
“Well, it was good seein’ you girl. Take care and I hope you get that massage soon. Bye!”
I ran to my bus, didn’t look back at my new friend, and made sure to brush my teeth as soon as I came home.
As I made my traditional walk to Bus 93, the Veneta Bus, I was stopped by some estranged woman yelling at me. She asked me the same question 3 times until I finally realized she was talking to me. I always try to remain oblivious and introverted at the bus station to avoid any altercations of any kind. I never even attempt to maintain eye contact with anyone. They could take it as disrespect Papa Cochran says. But despite all my efforts, today, my methods failed.
The rough woman asked me from afar, “Hey! So, when do I get this massage you promised me?!”
I was taken aback. Not only by this woman’s rugged appearance but also by the fact she knew I administered massages every once in a while and I supposedly promised HER one. I walked closer hoping to perhaps recognize this woman but alas, I could not. Maybe she was in my same Shiatsu massage class?
Her face could have been a face from my past but I couldn’t be sure. I almost thought she was Linda, the Queen Bitch who rode my bus, but her missing front tooth threw me off. I walked closer, gulped at an audible level, and simply responded, “Oh, hey you! Um, how’s it goin? How you been?” trying to keep my cool. I didn’t want to show any disrespect now. This lady wasn’t afraid to lose some teeth and I do happen to enjoy brushing mine on a daily basis. All of them.
“I’m good, I’m good,” She smiled baring that toothless wonder of a smile.
“So, has John still been stalkin’ you ?” she asked inquisitively.
Ok, who the hell is John? I had no idea who she was referring to and simply thanked God this “John” character wasn’t stalking me. Did she know something about me I didn’t? Do I have a stalker named John? Is he missing a tooth too?
“Oh, no. He done stopped long time ago. Is he, uh, still stalkin’ you?” I asked trying to convey a tough demeanor.
She just shook her head no and smiled. I actually kind of hoped John was ok.
The toothless wonder’s two friends showed up, who looked equally as tough, so I decided it was my cue to peace out, respectfully.
“Well, it was good seein’ you girl. Take care and I hope you get that massage soon. Bye!”
I ran to my bus, didn’t look back at my new friend, and made sure to brush my teeth as soon as I came home.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
StarGazing to Death: Part 2
This was beginning to become a manifestation of complete horror. Some scene one would see featured in some stupid horror flick was beginning to become our reality.
The figure was slowly walking towards us and we were all huddled at the end of the dock with absolutely no where to go.
We all started to yell and ask the mysterious psycho questions like, “Hello?” “Who are you?” “Hey, how’s it going?” hoping, praying he would respond in some friendly manner. We all started to pee our pants as he continued walking towards us neglecting to answer ANY of our questions.
Emily quickly panicked and said, “Ok, guys I think it’s time to go. Let’s go, let’s go.”
She didn’t have to tell my ass twice. I quickly grabbed my flip-flops, stood up, and realized something to my complete horror: my left foot was fucking asleep. I was going to die.
China, Emily’s friend spoke up and said, “Everyone, let’s just walk down there nice and calm. Who the hell is this fucker and why won’t he answer us?”
I slowly attempted to stand up and said “All right, the key here is not to panic.”
As we gathered our things we all huddled closely together, while the strange figure is still closing in. I could not believe this was happening. We were all going to die and no one would hear our screams. No one.
I knew for sure he had a knife or maybe HE even carried a sword! Some sick, twist of fate like that was sure to occur during a moment like this. I definitely let China walk down the dock to her death first, mostly because she was willing to. The only weapon I had was my brick-like phone or my red-flimsy flip-flops which could inflict much pain if I slapped them both across his face real hard with précised timing. However, it would have proved a most difficult feat due to my sleeping foot. Shit.
As I hobbled down the dock, I wondered if I’d survive jumping in the lake and just swimming to shore, leaving the others behind. Although I am no Michael Phelps, I heard the body could accomplish grand displays of athleticism if threatened by death. I would have gone to find help, of course, and return promptly. I had a feeling one of us was going to die, someone in a situation like this always does. But just because I was temporarily crippled, I was going to make sure it wasn’t me. Survival of the fittest. Sorry Diana.
China was about ready to tackle this hooded sicko when all of a sudden we heard the man say, “It’s me!!!”
The stranger revealed himself and it was China’s good Hawaiian friend, Liki (Pronounced Leaky like a Leaky-bucket). Emily and Liki had been planning to scare us down here ALL DAY. I would have been more mad but was relieved I was still breathing and could still fulfill my dream of having 7 Philippino babies. We all had a good laugh afterwards but I am still recovering.
I shall live to fight another day but rest assured, I am never going stargazing again. Unless, of course, I am carrying a huge motha-fuccin’ sword.
The figure was slowly walking towards us and we were all huddled at the end of the dock with absolutely no where to go.
We all started to yell and ask the mysterious psycho questions like, “Hello?” “Who are you?” “Hey, how’s it going?” hoping, praying he would respond in some friendly manner. We all started to pee our pants as he continued walking towards us neglecting to answer ANY of our questions.
Emily quickly panicked and said, “Ok, guys I think it’s time to go. Let’s go, let’s go.”
She didn’t have to tell my ass twice. I quickly grabbed my flip-flops, stood up, and realized something to my complete horror: my left foot was fucking asleep. I was going to die.
China, Emily’s friend spoke up and said, “Everyone, let’s just walk down there nice and calm. Who the hell is this fucker and why won’t he answer us?”
I slowly attempted to stand up and said “All right, the key here is not to panic.”
As we gathered our things we all huddled closely together, while the strange figure is still closing in. I could not believe this was happening. We were all going to die and no one would hear our screams. No one.
I knew for sure he had a knife or maybe HE even carried a sword! Some sick, twist of fate like that was sure to occur during a moment like this. I definitely let China walk down the dock to her death first, mostly because she was willing to. The only weapon I had was my brick-like phone or my red-flimsy flip-flops which could inflict much pain if I slapped them both across his face real hard with précised timing. However, it would have proved a most difficult feat due to my sleeping foot. Shit.
As I hobbled down the dock, I wondered if I’d survive jumping in the lake and just swimming to shore, leaving the others behind. Although I am no Michael Phelps, I heard the body could accomplish grand displays of athleticism if threatened by death. I would have gone to find help, of course, and return promptly. I had a feeling one of us was going to die, someone in a situation like this always does. But just because I was temporarily crippled, I was going to make sure it wasn’t me. Survival of the fittest. Sorry Diana.
China was about ready to tackle this hooded sicko when all of a sudden we heard the man say, “It’s me!!!”
The stranger revealed himself and it was China’s good Hawaiian friend, Liki (Pronounced Leaky like a Leaky-bucket). Emily and Liki had been planning to scare us down here ALL DAY. I would have been more mad but was relieved I was still breathing and could still fulfill my dream of having 7 Philippino babies. We all had a good laugh afterwards but I am still recovering.
I shall live to fight another day but rest assured, I am never going stargazing again. Unless, of course, I am carrying a huge motha-fuccin’ sword.
Monday, September 6, 2010
StarGazing To Death: Part 1
We all undergo near death-defying moments in our lives. Moments that will forever be engraved within our memories causing us to shiver at the recollection. Moments where our life truly does flash before our eyes and we realize that none of those past memories matter. Nothing matters but trying to survive those next couple minutes. I am a survivor. And this is my story.
My story takes place two nights ago on September 4th, 2010 in the most desolate, remote part in all of Ashland, Oregon: the lake dock.
My darling cousin Emily, conjured up the brilliant idea to go stargazing down at the local lake dock. This idea would have been slightly more appealing if wind speeds weren’t blowing at a whole 14 mph and if I brought my poop-colored jacket along. But, alas, I proceeded to freeze my ass off.
Our party consisted of me, sister Diana, Emily, and her tough yet scrawny friend China. We all climbed into her set of wheels and slowly drove ourselves to our impending doom. We arrived at the lake dock and ventured down the rocky hill to sit and freaking stargaze. While we were walking down, myself tripping over rocks periodically, we heard a noise in the distance. We could not see anything within a foot. I could hardly make out my huge-ass nose. It was pitch black and we all depended on our cell phones to illuminate the ground beneath. My sister Diana asked, “Hello? Is that a dog?” assuming the dog would give an answer of some sort. I almost wished it was a dog so I could have used it as my own seeing-eye dog. My feet did not appreciate the treatment it was receiving and a moderately sized dog could have carried me to safety or something.
But, this sound was not being made by a dog at all, but by some couple: a boy and a girl. What was strange was that they didn’t answer my sister’s inquiry but instead gave out a little chuckle. We probably interrupted their little romantic rendezvous but I could’ve cared less. My ass had goose-bumps.
The four of us finally made it to the dock equipped with only a wool blanket to keep us warm. We all had to huddle up to try and produce any heat we could muster but the wind was too strong. I felt as if we could’ve blown off the dock at any second. Any joy that was supposed to be associated with this activity was slowly dwindling. We were officially the only people down by the dock…so we thought.
As we were complaining about how cold it was, we heard a figure in the distance crack a stick or stub his toe, or something. I was sure it was nothing but just to be safe I yelled out, “Don’t worry guys I’m carrying a really big sword with me.” I knew that would have intimidated any intruder. But ten seconds later we hear heavy footsteps on the dock approaching where we were. These footsteps gave off a sound conveying this figure was heavy, most likely wearing boots that could crush our skulls. I did not like the sound either way and my goose bumps began to multiply. We all looked towards the shore and eventually the silhouette of a tall, dark clothed figure began to appear. I then proceeded to shit my pants.
My story takes place two nights ago on September 4th, 2010 in the most desolate, remote part in all of Ashland, Oregon: the lake dock.
My darling cousin Emily, conjured up the brilliant idea to go stargazing down at the local lake dock. This idea would have been slightly more appealing if wind speeds weren’t blowing at a whole 14 mph and if I brought my poop-colored jacket along. But, alas, I proceeded to freeze my ass off.
Our party consisted of me, sister Diana, Emily, and her tough yet scrawny friend China. We all climbed into her set of wheels and slowly drove ourselves to our impending doom. We arrived at the lake dock and ventured down the rocky hill to sit and freaking stargaze. While we were walking down, myself tripping over rocks periodically, we heard a noise in the distance. We could not see anything within a foot. I could hardly make out my huge-ass nose. It was pitch black and we all depended on our cell phones to illuminate the ground beneath. My sister Diana asked, “Hello? Is that a dog?” assuming the dog would give an answer of some sort. I almost wished it was a dog so I could have used it as my own seeing-eye dog. My feet did not appreciate the treatment it was receiving and a moderately sized dog could have carried me to safety or something.
But, this sound was not being made by a dog at all, but by some couple: a boy and a girl. What was strange was that they didn’t answer my sister’s inquiry but instead gave out a little chuckle. We probably interrupted their little romantic rendezvous but I could’ve cared less. My ass had goose-bumps.
The four of us finally made it to the dock equipped with only a wool blanket to keep us warm. We all had to huddle up to try and produce any heat we could muster but the wind was too strong. I felt as if we could’ve blown off the dock at any second. Any joy that was supposed to be associated with this activity was slowly dwindling. We were officially the only people down by the dock…so we thought.
As we were complaining about how cold it was, we heard a figure in the distance crack a stick or stub his toe, or something. I was sure it was nothing but just to be safe I yelled out, “Don’t worry guys I’m carrying a really big sword with me.” I knew that would have intimidated any intruder. But ten seconds later we hear heavy footsteps on the dock approaching where we were. These footsteps gave off a sound conveying this figure was heavy, most likely wearing boots that could crush our skulls. I did not like the sound either way and my goose bumps began to multiply. We all looked towards the shore and eventually the silhouette of a tall, dark clothed figure began to appear. I then proceeded to shit my pants.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Praise to my Faithful Followers: My Best Friend, My Sister, My Cousin, and Myself
I would simply like to take the time to personally dedicate this blog to the people who serve as my momentum, my sole reason for continuing this blog: my followers.
You have no idea how much you all mean to me and to the success of my blog. Weronika, Brittany, Andy, (and Myself), although you are few in number, remember it is you who bring a smile to my face each time I decide to post a “New Post.”
I honestly never thought my follower base would exceed the number 2 (me and the lovely Miss W) but now it is at a whopping four and is growing on monthly basis by one person. I am hoping by the end of this year, although it is going to be a quite a stretch, to have at least seven. I will try not to let you all down and quit Cochtalk but will instead continue this blog until I decide to make a book out of my “fascinating” bus trips to work. It shall be entitled, “The Bus. And the People On it,” “Strange Times and Odors on the Veneta Bus, ”Or “The Wheels on this Bus Should Not go Round and Round.”
Please, my 3 lovely followers, if you have any input as to what you feel this title should be, comment.
Do not think I ever take you people for granted. I know how hard it is to follow someone’s blog because I barely know how to do it myself. I mean, I have only been able to follow one blog.
You give me strength. You endow me with hope. You light my fire. The fire to carry on these silly posts similar to the way they carry that Olympic torch which supposedly never burns out. Because of you, no fire extinguisher can blow it out. Not even the Olympic Torch can say that.
I thank you all from the very depths of my heart. May God Bless and may God be with each and every one of you the next time you decide to utilize the public bus as your mode of transportation.
You have no idea how much you all mean to me and to the success of my blog. Weronika, Brittany, Andy, (and Myself), although you are few in number, remember it is you who bring a smile to my face each time I decide to post a “New Post.”
I honestly never thought my follower base would exceed the number 2 (me and the lovely Miss W) but now it is at a whopping four and is growing on monthly basis by one person. I am hoping by the end of this year, although it is going to be a quite a stretch, to have at least seven. I will try not to let you all down and quit Cochtalk but will instead continue this blog until I decide to make a book out of my “fascinating” bus trips to work. It shall be entitled, “The Bus. And the People On it,” “Strange Times and Odors on the Veneta Bus, ”Or “The Wheels on this Bus Should Not go Round and Round.”
Please, my 3 lovely followers, if you have any input as to what you feel this title should be, comment.
Do not think I ever take you people for granted. I know how hard it is to follow someone’s blog because I barely know how to do it myself. I mean, I have only been able to follow one blog.
You give me strength. You endow me with hope. You light my fire. The fire to carry on these silly posts similar to the way they carry that Olympic torch which supposedly never burns out. Because of you, no fire extinguisher can blow it out. Not even the Olympic Torch can say that.
I thank you all from the very depths of my heart. May God Bless and may God be with each and every one of you the next time you decide to utilize the public bus as your mode of transportation.
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