Castle Zombiekraft + Birthday Celebration

Sorry about not posting for a while. We've been kind of busy living like medieval serfs.

Allow me to explain.

About two weeks ago, the heating in our apartment went down for good, exposing our poor pasty epidermises to the cold which creeped in through cracks between doors, through window panes and pipes. As a last ditch effort, a redoubt was created. A fortress, if you will.

It's name? Castle Zombiekraft.



Or here, the fair structure in full, placed in the center of our living room:


Huddled together against the cold, we valiantly shivered ourselves to sleep night after night. Eventually the landlord deigned to hear our complaints, and construction began on a new central heating system, which was to take 8 days to complete.

In the meantime, here is a picture of my roommate Anthony working on his laptop, on a cot within Castle Zombiekraft:



In this time, most of my energy was expended in shivering, so I apologize for my lack of updates.

I ask your humble forgiveness and will attempt to placate you with this video created by roommates Anthony and Mark (along with help from our friends David and Adriel) in commemoration of my six-and-twentieth birthday, which might have been titled "My Roommate Timothy".

Enjoy

Friday Night Fever

The night before the highly-anticipated three-day weekend, the roommates stocked the apartment as though preparing for a siege. We bought Sour Gummies, sunflower seeds, Coca-Cola Classic (remember, Mark won't drink diet) & beer. Mark always buys one chocolate bar, one fruit-flavored candy, and something salty. Mark also purchased big Budweisers.

Here Mark shows off his big Budwesier, which he has inexplicably decided to place in a beer cozy proclaiming "Instant Redneck: Just add beer."


So impressed by the size of the beer bottle, Mark & Anthony insisted we show the "actual size" of the bottle by comparison with Anthony's forearm.


Anthony then proceeded to insist we show the bottle's "actual size" in comparison to his wang. Fortunately we stopped him at the last possible moment before he got too carried away.


With victuals and provisions well-stocked, we began our three-day sojourn. We had resolved to play video games and watch Lost until we passed out. Anthony had bought a new XBox game which we popped open and fired up. It was 8pm on Friday night and the long weekend was just beginning.

Mark lasted until exactly 8:30pm.

Having settled himself on the comfy chair with his blanket to keep him warm, he passed out half an hour into the weekend extravaganza.



THE END

Whose poo?

"Okay, WHOSE POO IS IN THE BOWL?"

As Anthony and I went to see what all the fuss was about, Mark opened the door to the bathroom suddenly. "Somebody pooed in the toilet and didn't flush. WHO DID IT?"

All three of us denied being the excrementor in question, and a round of accusations commenced.

"I didn't do it, I just got home," Anthony said.

"It wasn't me, I haven't pooped all day," I said.

"Okay, listen: maybe somebody snuck in..." Mark began.

"And pooped in our toilet?" Anthony finished incredulously.

"Well, somebody did it," Mark insisted.

Later that evening, I caught Mark before he went to bed.

"Goodnight, Mark."

"'Night."

He walked into his darkened room, then abruptly turned around.

"Tim? You remember when there was the poo in the bowl and we didn't know whose it was?" Mark asked.

"Yes."

"Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure it was me."

Sex, Drugs & Cocoa Roos

Mark is eating his usual dinner of Cocoa Puffs and Frosted Mini-Wheats mixed together in a bowl with chocolate milk. Mark insists on calling them by their off-brand names: Cocoa Roos and Mini-Spooners.

You see, when Mark was a kid, his mother made him and his brother finish an entire box of cereal before he could open another. But Mark wanted to mix them together. Mom wouldn't have any of it!

But now that Mark is all grown up.... he can do WHATEVER HE WANTS!

Keep Mark's Dream Alive

"Guys, I've solved our money problems," Mark yelled from his room.

Anthony and I came into Mark's room.

"We're going to win $500 for best tin foil hat," he further explained.

You may recall that Mark was winner of the Weird New Jersey 2006 Halloween Costume Contest for his fortune-telling booth (think "Zoltar" from Big). He plays to win. He also spends an inordinate amount of time on the internet trying to find free stuff or win prizes.

Thus, the TearDrop Memories Tin Foil Hat Contest. Despite my own misgivings, Mark set off immediately to create his new masterpiece.

He started by wrapping tin foil around his head.



Then he sculpted it into the shape of a pterodactyl's head.



Then he pretended to be a dinosaur and attacked Anthony's bald head.



"CAW! CAW!" Mark said.

After a while of pretending, he went back to working on the hat.

His girlfriend called him.

"Whatcha doin?"

"Making a hat."

"What kind of hat?"

"A tin foil hat."

"Why?"

"To win a contest. On the internet."

His girlfriend needed a ride, so Mark headed out the door and left his tin foil hat unfinished.

The next day, I inquired as to the status of the hat.

"Yeah, I'll probably never finish it."

"What?" I was shocked.

"I'll keep procrastinating until it's the day before the contest ends. Unless I get it done this weekend. It's pretty much not going to happen otherwise."

This is where you, Dear Reader, enter the picture. In a show of support, I have created an online petition. By signing it, you will be committing to encourage Mark to shoot for the stars, to achieve his goals and create the greatest tin foil hat in the history of the human race.

We can do it! Let's show him we care!


*EDIT*

Mark has corrected me. His prize-winning Halloween costume was not Zoltar, as I reported, but rather the "mystic seer" from an episode of The Twilight Zone. A picture of his costume can be seen below:

Thirsty Thursday

Thirsty Thursday. Time for a good old-fashioned bro-nanza at the bar. We're walking to the Ale 'n Wich, our neighborhood bar, when Mark stops us.

"I may have pooped in my pants."

"What?!" Anthony asks.

"I'm going to check at the bar," Mark replies.

"Don't you want to go home and check?" I ask.

"No, I'll wait to go to the bar."

When we reached the bar, Anthony went to buy a pitcher, I saved us a spot at the table, and Mark made a beeline for the bathroom.

"Everything's alright," he assured us after he came out. "No poop."

Taste Test

Mark knocked on my door with some exciting news. He had been chosen to taste test the new Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper.

Mark has been a member of Surveys Spree®, an online research company, for years. But now that Mark works at a job affording him a degree of disposable income, he better fits the targeted marketing demographic, and has been offered more opportunities to test products.

He unpacked the test soda from the box with evident glee.

You see, Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper has been on the market for some time. But Mark hates diet sodas. "This is why I've been so mad for so long."

He sipped.



His analysis: Too light on the cherry.

But soft drinks aren't the only thing that Mark is testing out. Certainly not! He has also tested men's underwear.

To test a new experimental elastic band in boxer briefs, Mark embarked on a rigorous 6-day trial.
"They gave me all these instructions, which I had to follow," Mark tells me.
"Like which foot to put through first?" I asked.
"No, more like, 'Wear the test boxers one day, then your regular boxers the next.'"

Mark gave the boxer briefs a real workout by performing lunges wearing nothing but the boxer briefs, to see how well they could handle the strain. Mark was most satisfied with the medium-tight ones.

Mark saves the world

"WHY DO I HAVE TO SAVE THE WORLD???"

I awoke to Mark screaming this at the top of his lungs.

At first I was concerned. Somewhat hazily, I wondered whether we had had an intruder or a break-in. I opened my door to see our other roommate (Anthony) in a similar state of confusion, rubbing his eyes having also been woken from an early evening nap.

"Mark, what the hell are you screaming about?" Anthony asked.

"Did I wake you guys up?" Mark replied innocently.

Anthony stared at him crossly. "Did you wake us up? Yes, Mark. You woke us up because you were screaming at the top of your lungs."

Perhaps, I speculated, Mark had had a nightmare? He said no, he had been daydreaming that someone approached him, requiring his expertise in order to save the planet.

"I asked him, 'You're telling me that I have to save the whole planet? Not just all the people. All the plants, all the animals, the tectonic plates and the magma core? Everything? The whole earth?"

"I said, 'Why do I have to save the whole planet? Don't you have some government, some corporation, some superhero to do the job?' and he said, 'No.' So I was like, 'Why do I have to save the world every time? WHY DO I HAVE TO SAVE THE WORLD???"

Don't stick your finger in the electrical socket!

When we took over the lease at our place, we inherited a bunch of extraneous stuff. For example, in our kitchen we have both an overhead florescent light, as well as some crappy track lighting. (See image)

I have tried to keep the track lighting unplugged, on the advice of an electrician who told me it's illegal as well as dangerous. However, Mark keeps plugging it in every morning before he goes to work.

As I reiterate to Mark that I don't want the track lighting plugged in, I notice him sticking his finger into the electrical socket in question.

Me: "Mark! Stop that! What the hell are you doing?"

Mark: "I'm just wiping dust out of it."