John G. Shedd's Newest Scam: Fantasea

First and foremost, I'd like to wish all of my readers a Merry Christmas! I hope you were able to spend time with the ones you love. Now on to the blog!

Right after finals, I went on a trip to Chicago with Purdue's Hotel Sales & Marketing Association (HSMA). This was our incentive blitz for the semester. As a few of our members had not been to Chitown before, we decided to go to Shedd's Aquarium.

The John G. Shedd Aquarium

Now, for those of you who have not been to Shedd's Aquarium, it's a must-see the next time you're there. There are over 14,000 different species (please don't quote me on that number, I'm pretty sure it's wrong but there were still a ton of fish and other sea creatures) of fish! Take a look at my awesome pictures below.

Simply amazing photography, right?

 

Clown fish

I told you they were awesome.

Now, when we had checked into the museum, we were urged to make time to go see the "Fantasea" show. Apparently, it was a new and improved animal show. They had just spent 4 months redesigning it and it was really amazing; so we were told. So after viewing various kinds of fish, we made our way to the arena for the 3:30pm show. According to the signs, Fantasea was where we were supposed to "Let the journey begin..." Now, I was a little unsure as to what 'journey' we would be embarking on. Obviously, it was some promotional ploy. You see everything these days, I guess.

I was really scared at this point...

We found some seats (it was packed) surrounded by a bunch of children little devils.

Great, this will be a wonderful show. Soon enough, the lights dimmed and some new age music started playing. They asked us to turn off the flash on our cameras and then things started going. All of a sudden, a few ripples went across the still water and these über-creepy "things" came out of the water and started doing these weird dances and made moaning noises.

I introduce: Freak Number One.

 

Freak Number Two. Sorry for the blurriness.

Last but not least (not).

They then announced that they would need a 'volunteer' from the audience. Then, this 'random little girl' was 'randomly picked' out of the crowd. She was full of excitement (a little bit too full) as she made her way down to the stage. Then, another 'thing' presented her with this necklace out of an oversized, plastic oyster shell.

"Random" little girl getting her necklace.

Again, full of excitement, she eagerly showed the crowd her newly prized possession. About half a second later, a boat (yes, a boat) descended from the ceiling! Wowee! The little girl, full of excitement (at this point, I'm pretty sure she's full of shit), and the thing both got into the boat (can you say molestation charges) and floated away into the magical, screen-projected sky!

Can you say Amber Alert? I did.

 

If only the cables had snapped... now THAT would be a show!

After she crossed the sea in the magical boat, she landed on Plymouth Rock and then a thing came out of the rock and they started playing with the Beluga Whales. Then some dolphins came out and did a couple of tricks

I've only seen dolphin jumps like a million times.

After that, some penguins (that had been crammed in a cart) came out and walked across the stage. Let me tell you, they were not happy. I'm thinking about suing for animal cruelty. Anyone have the number for the A.S.P.C.A.? After the lame penguins, everything when quiet again. All of a sudden, the sounds of flapping wings flooded our ears and out of nowhere, a bird man was flying all around us! Actually, he was just attached to a string being moved around. Lame.

I think this was Lame Freak #593019384092428025983902 of the show.

Not even his wings were flapping! After the bird man departed us, that damn boat appeared again and took the little girl back across the water. After she got out of the boat, her mother came out of the audience and they gave each other a big hug!

Mom: "I was worried sick when they took you!"

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was it. The show lasted maybe 30 minutes. I was so disappointed with the show. It had horrible acting and I didn't get to pet a single animal. Talk about a scam. I left asking myself what I had paid for. Did I pay for a mediocre, over the top, Vegas-style dolphin show? Absolutely not! I bet that if John G. Shedd knew what was going on (let alone be alive), he would probably pull his funding and take his name off of the building. In conclusion, you should not go and see "Fantasea." Do not "let your journey begin." If you do, you will suffer from unfortunate effects. When we left the show, it left all of us in bad moods. Especially Wara.

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 Enjoy the rest of your break everyone. 

PS: Shoutouts to Derek Nicholson & Wara Rollano for some of the pictures.

NEXT BLOG:
"The Art of People Watching"


DISCLAIMER: This blog is only intended to poke fun. If you don't find this funny, then screw you.

 

Idiot of the Century: Tiger Woods

Hello, dear friends. If you're taking finals this week, I hope they're going well.

Today's post features the winner of a very important award:

Come on down,

Tiger Woods!

You're the very first recipient of the Idiot of the Century Award!!

Now don't look too excited!!

Oh boy, this is gonna be fun. Now, I'm sure all of you know about how the most-paid athlete, Tiger Woods, crashed his Cadillac SUV into a tree, at 2:28am.

 

That poor tree. Never had a chance.

The drama ensued with several women claiming to be having an affair with him. Uh oh, trouble with the wife. This is especially unfortunate for Tiger-- because his wife is really hot. See below.

Damn.

Now, Tiger: If you had a wife this hot, then why did you go and cheat on her? Plus, you had a kid! What a shame. I feel bad for your supermodel wife and child. It's pretty much a domino effect from there. He loses his fancy car, his wife, his mistresses, takes an 'indefinite' break from golf, and his dignity. Oh yeah, he also loses a ton of sponsorships. Bye bye moolah.

Don't feel too bad for tiger, he still has one very important sponsor:

Worth $200 Million.

No, that's not the actual ad. But Tiger Woods just signed a deal with Trojan Condoms worth $200 Million. No joke. How sad is that?

About a week later after the stories broke, one of his several mistresses came forward. This is what she looked like:

Dead sexy.

After the first came forward, the rest came pouring in:

 

He must have a thing for the crazy ones.

  

 I know what I want for Christmas... a trip to rehab!

 He also likes aliens.

Now what's the moral of the story? Don't be the most paid and most recognized athlete on the planet, don't earn a ton of money, don't have a hot supermodel wife, don't cheat on your hot supermodel wife, don't crash your neat-o SUV into a poor tree, don't lose all that money, don't ruin your family, and don't scar your child's life forever. Also, don't flush every last ounce of your dignity down the toilet.

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That's all folks. Have a wonderful Christmas holiday.

 

Shame on you, MTV

You'd better watch out, I'm on the warpath today.

Today, ladies and gentlemen, I am upset about the shit we call MTV.

Last week, my roommate started watching this show called 'Jersey Shore.' What is this show about? Jersey Shore is a show about 25-30 year old college high school dropouts. They move to this beach house for the summer to work in some dumpy t-shirt shop. Here's a picture of it:

What a nice place!

Now, I do have to sympathize with the characters. This is their first REAL job! I give them credit! They go out on their own and get their first job at age 30. Mom and Dad must miss them living at home! I can imagine them being very proud as well.

Now, who are the characters? Well, there are two types of people: Guidos and Guidettes.

According to UrbanDictionary.com, this is what they are:

"An Italian American man usually residing in New York or New Jersey. He wears shirts that are too tight and unbuttoned 5 buttons too low to show off the chest that he spent hours and hours at the gym obtaining, he spends more time on his hair than his girlfriend, and continues to "hit the clubs" long into his mid to late 30's. Often attracted to the female version of himself, the guidette."

Sounds like a bunch of winners to me. In fact, I've even posted a picture of the cast below:

Like I said, winners!

So what does the show entail? Just about how they have to get up at the crack of noon to go to work at the t-shirt shop. They have to work really long 4 hour shifts (and I thought my 8 hour shifts were long) folding t-shirts and helping customers. Unfortunately, they are not good at either of these things. Half of them are busy vomiting in the bathroom (from getting wasted the night before) and missing work, so they get in trouble with their boss.

 

Looks like fun!

But don't worry, they have 10 chances to make it up to their boss. So what do they do in their free time? The girls usually go out and be whores. The guys go out and be manwhores. Surprising, no? Then they squabble with each other about how they're all whores and now they need to filter the hot tub.

And sadly, that's where it ends. The ENTIRE show is about that. Stupid drama. But wait, you're probably hungry for more drama. "The Hills" is next! Oh wait, you're right! That's another reality show! In fact, actors on "The Hills" are trying to act like it's reality. The acting is so awful-- so awful that I'm at a loss for words. See for yourself:

They seem like good friends.

Are your eyes bleeding too?

For the record, I'm pretty sure my dog, Gus, and I could do better acting.

This is Gus.

So American teenagers/adolescents/college kids-- I ask you the most important question I will ever ask you:

Why, oh why, do you like these shows?

According to my roommate, it's because people are trying to fill the hole in their lives-- the hole of useless, lame drama. Apparently, some people even wish they were on shows like these! They want excitement!

So, my message to you is this:

You don't need this kind of shit in your lives. In fact, you should be thankful that you aren't one of these people and you should do everything in your power to avoid becoming like them.

Oh: MTV? Shame on you. You need to rename your network to CTV. Crap Television.

Clever, no?

At least in Europe they still show music videos.

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Have a good weekend everyone.

Study for those finals!

 

How NOT to get into Downtown Paris

Oh boy, y'all are in for a special treat. I am sharing a piece of my infinite wisdom with all of you!

This summer, I had a great opportunity to spend a week in Paris. If you ever get the chance, take it. Anyway, we were staying in a little town about 15 minutes from Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport (CDG). Therefore, I needed to find a way to get into downtown Paris. I had two choices:

1. Take the Air France "les cars" bus system
2. Take the RER Trains (subway)

Now, while option 2 is most economical, I was also told that it was ridden with lots of pickpockets preying on jet lagged, luggage laden, rich American tourists. After having a bad experience in Italy, I decided to stay pickpocket free and ride the comfortable, air conditioned tour busses that Air France uses. Now, the subway would have cost about $10, roundtrip. The bus was about $30 roundtrip, but the pros outweighed the cons. I've outlined the two journeys below, for your reading pleasure (this is where it gets good).

June 15, 2009 - Option 1



I woke up around 9am (this was later than planned; however I had had too many rum and cokes the previous evening... damn minibar!) I saw this outside of my hotel room window:

 It was rainy.

Not to mention, but it was also about 50 degrees Fahrenheit as well. It's what you would have called a 'pretty crappy day' for Paris in the summer. My hopes remained high that the weather would clear up. I got ready for the day then headed downstairs. After a few (about 10) chocolate au pains and a couple shots of espresso, I made my way to inquire about the weather. She confirmed my hopes that yes, the weather would get better. After I made my way to CDG (which, by the way, is the crappiest airport known to man), I set off to find the Air France bus stop.

Lo and behold, there it is!

Please ignore the nice weather, it was actually raining quite hard at this point (I had to borrow this picture from Google). Being very proud of myself that I had found the bus, and ready to start my adventure into Paris, I started to walk into the bus. However, the driver just sat there reading his "Le Figaro"-- a French newspaper. According to the Air France website, this is how they were supposed to look:

Notice the smile?

Instead, this is what I got:

No, he didn't actually say that.

I just stood there waiting for him to look up, but after a few awkward moments of silence, I said "Bonjour!" He looks up with an angry scowl scribbled across his face. I said: "Un billet aller-retour s'il vous plaît." I already knew my ticket would cost 18 Euro so I handed him my 20 Euro bill. He gave me a SINGLE Euro coin (I didn't realize he cheated me until after I got off) back and then gave me my ticket. He then told me (in French) that we would leave in 15 minutes. I made my way to the back of the bus (where the cool kids sit) and had my choice of seats. Sweet, I thought, this is great! There were only two other passengers on board so I had a whole row to myself. Life. Was. Good. I had my comfy seat, my own air vent, plenty of room to stretch out, and they were even showing CNN (in English!) on the TV's inside the bus. Even the rain was letting up! The bus driver got off to smoke a cancer stick with his fellow bus drivers and then we were off.

When we pulled out, I noticed we missed the exit of the airport-- the one that would lead us to Paris. Uh oh, I thought, he found out I was an American and was going to kick me off! Nope. We made no less than six other stops around CDG. Did I mention that CDG is the worst designed airport? That it was rush hour? That the French are terrible drivers? I did now. It took another 45 minutes before we even left the airport. By now, the bus was packed with people and I was now sharing my pair of seats with a person of size. It was starting to get extremely hot on the bus and the odors of my fellow passengers started to fill my nostrils. To make matters worse, the bus driver had turned off the air conditioning. Could it get worse? Yes. He also turned of my beloved CNN and replaced it with this awful (and somewhat creepy) Air France commercial that looped THE ENTIRE RIDE.

Creepy, no? Especially when the guy is scraping ice off the car. Can you say pedophile?

And yes. It. Got. Worse.

Check out that traffic.

After an agonizing 2 hour ride into Paris (I kid you not), we finally made it to L'Arc de Triomphe. But guess what: it was raining. A lot. Now, I want you to imagine this: an 18 year old gets off an Air France bus in flip flops, shorts, and a t-shirt. No jacket, no umbrella. It is raining heavily and is 45 degrees out. Yes, you could spot the American. I walked around the block (while getting rained on) and made my way into a cafe. I asked the bartender (she was really hot) where I could buy an umbrella and she sent me down to a corner store a block away. I thanked her in French and left. I found the store with ease and spend another $10 on a cheap, overpriced, piece of shit umbrella. Guess what? Made in America. I could tell that the storekeeper picked this one especially for me.

Sure spells quality!

No, that wasn't the exact umbrella, but it was pretty close. After walking around for a few more minutes, and getting splashed by a car, and becoming very depressed, I walked back to the bus stop. I waited in line and once the bus driver saw me, he started laughing. At me. He took my ticket, said some things in French (that I could not understand), and I walked back to my same seat. To my luck, the creepy commercial was back on. And, the air conditioning was back on too. Bless his heart, that bus driver was trying to dry me out and make my day better. However, because I was wet, and the air was cold, I became even colder and stayed wet. But it's the thought that counts, right?

We made our way back to CDG and guess what-- it only took 30 minutes. Great. Worst day in Paris? I think so.

June 19, 2009 - Option 2

The story begins like the last one, except that it was 70 degrees and the sun was shining. I made my way to the airport and went to the RER station. I purchased my ticket from the ticket lady, who was actually quite cheery.

She wished me a pleasant visit in Paris.

Again, that wasn't really her. But she looked pretty similar to the real lady. And she really did smile! I swiped my ticket through the über-cool machine and took the escalator down to the platform.

The helpful information screen.

 

The train itself.

Free entertainment-- the guy in the middle played the accordion.

Even the subway stations are nicely decorated.

The train wasn't that crowded and I didn't see any pickpockets. I did, however, see a French pimp. No joke. I, sadly, did not take a picture of him (I didn't want to look on Google Images either). The trip took a total of 45 minutes-- from getting in line to buy the ticket to stepping off the platform at Rue St. Michel. Which, by the way, is right near Le Tour d'Eiffel. And, it was MUCH cheaper. Therefore, ladies and gentlemen, the RER is a great option to get into Paris.

What's the moral of the story? Don't believe what everyone says about the subways in Paris or Air France buses.

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"Bon chance" on finals everyone.

Oh, and a shoutout to Kat: Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag!

  

It's that day of the week again...

Do you know what day is today? It's Sunday.

Don't worry, I'm not harping on the human race today. I'm here to explain one of college's greatest rituals.

Let's begin: what best describes your Sunday?

• You walk back to your dorm at 9am with blood shot eyes and breath that smells like cheap vodka.
• You sleep till 2pm, order Jimmy Johns, then do homework for the rest of the night.
• You get up at a decent hour, go to lunch, veg out in front of the TV, then go to Church.
• You do laundry.

If you answered with the last choice, you win a prize (well, not really)! Don't get me wrong; any of the above answers are perfectly acceptable. But if you didn't answer with the last choice, then please let me fill you in on one college's greatest blessings.

Laundry day.

I always look forward to laundry day. Why? Maybe it's because it always smells good in the laundry room. Maybe it's because you will have clean clothes when you're finished. Maybe it's because it gives you time to do your homework. For me, it's all three. First, it always smells great in the laundry room. It seems as if all of those soap products are mixing their scents just for you! Second, who doesn't like having clean clothes? I know I do. Third, you have time to get stuff done. One of college kids' biggest complaints is that they never have enough time to get stuff done. Usually, Sunday is a pretty popular time to do laundry. Therefore, it can take up to three hours to get it all done! In other words, you have three hours to do homework. Plus, it's a good study environment. You can kill two birds with one stone.

On a side note, I'm actually typing this LIVE from the laundry room. See? I'm getting stuff done.

So for those of you who usually take your laundry home on the weekend, wait a month to go home and do it, or don't do it yourselves, give it a try. You'll enjoy it more than you think you will.

However, I must digress. There is one thing I do not enjoy about laundry day:

Snuggle Bear is creepy as f*ck.

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Have a great Sunday everyone.

A Shoutout to the Bus Drivers

Today, we got out of German 15 minutes early. Wunderbar (German for wonderful-- duh). I make my way upstairs and outside-- to where it's 27 degrees Fahrenheit. And that's before the windchill... bottom line, it was pretty damn cold outside. I make my way to the bus stop and wait for the silver loop bus. I wait for a few minutes and bus 1701 pulls up. Ah, my favorite bus. It's one of those newer electric hybrids that doesn't smell. It's also one that's twice as long with the thing in the middle which helps it turn. Think back to a movie which features a city in India. Yep, now you know what I'm talking about.

I get on the bus and say hello to the bus driver. Sometimes she's friendly, sometimes shes not. Today it is the latter. Oh well, we all have those days. I make my way to the back of the bus and grab a seat. As we make our way to the Union and Memorial Mall stops, this bus will get packed. We make it to Memorial Mall and there's a ton of people waiting to get on. There are a few people who decide that they don't want to wait. They decide to get in the back doors as others are getting off. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a no no. You need to go in the front of the bus so the bus driver can count how many get on.

She noticed that a few individuals had done this so she gets on the intercom and tells them that next time they need to go in the front. They sneer and call her a bitch and a few other things. Fine, whatever you want. As the bus starts to fill, the middle of the bus gets clogged and people aren't smart enough to move to the back, to let more people on. She gets on the intercom once more and tells people that the bus isn't going anywhere until they move back. Still, people don't understand this simple request. At this point, I feel bad for the people still waiting outside in the tundra. I feel bad for the bus driver that has to put up with selfish, rude, and arrogant college kids. I feel bad for the college kids who are still making their rude remarks about her (I also feel bad for them cause they're not smart enough to understand what "move to the back of the bus" means).

I salute you, bus drivers. I salute you for putting up with my classmates' antics. They're not very bright. I also apologize on behalf of my university for everything you've had to put up with this semester. Thanks for being there when I want a warm, dry transport so I don't have to walk a few hundred feet.

Again people, like yesterday, let's try and make courtesy common again. So next time you're getting off the bus, wish your driver a great day, a good evening, or a simple thank you. Without our bus drivers, it could be much, much worse.

Tschüss.

Bravo-- I commend you on a job well done.

It's Wednesday morning, around 10:30am, to be exact, when I roll out of bed. I spend my time getting ready for the day as I don't have class until 1:30pm. Around noon, I decide it's time for lunch. So I make my way down to the nearest dining hall, just across the street. I stop through the main lobby and grab a newspaper. I swipe in and see that my favorite table is empty all while saying hello to the elderly man who runs the register (he's there day in and day out-- and he remembers everyone's name).

I make my way to the aforementioned table and take off my coat. I lay it across the booth and put my fresh newspaper on the table as well. I then go and get a drink and set it on the table-- by the time I get my food, I'm far too lazy to want to get up and get a drink. Oh, and it was Diet Coke, for those wondering. I go and grab a tray. I pass by the salad bar and decide to keep passing-- for the lettuce never really looks to be that fresh at this particular dining court. I go down the line... deciding what I want. Nothing really looks inviting. But wait-- what did I see? All the way at the end of the counter, I see Heaven. Breakfast Heaven. I get out of line and make my way to the area containing potato gems (they're really just tater tots-- do they really need the special name?), mountains of powdered scrambled eggs, sausage links, and a pile of crispy french toast sticks. Delicious. I love breakfast food-- at any time of the day. I get a little of everything and also decide on half of a Swiss grilled-cheese sandwich. I grab a cookie and am on my way (I know I know, not the healthiest of lunches, but I'm in college).

I set my tray down on my table-- wait, this isn't my table. But wait again-- my drink and coat are here. Where is my newspaper? Surely, somebody wouldn't have taken it... I look under the table and on both benches, but to no avail. I look all around me hoping someone is behind me with it saying "You dropped this." Nope. Not going to happen-- I should have known better. But what do I see? Not 10 feet away, at the next table, is some random guy reading my paper. Now, you're thinking, how do you know it was your paper? As soon as I realize he's reading MY paper, his girlfriend looked up at me. We briefly locked eyes. She broke away and said something to her boyfriend. He immediately haphazardly folded up the paper and set it on the seat next to him. Like it was nothing.

Well done, asshole. Well done. I would like to commend you on a job well done. A job well done of ruining my day.

Now, again, I know what you're thinking. It's just a newspaper. But-- it was my newspaper. Do you mean to tell me that, even though you passed a stack of, like 50 newspapers, you couldn't have grabbed one yourself? Sure, maybe you were 10 feet from my table, but you were only 20 from the rack. I just don't get some people today. I ate my lunch without my paper-- and it was disappointing. I just don't know how to explain how angry this made me.

I should have said something, but I thought that maybe he was in an article or maybe something he wrote was published in it. But seriously, what you did was lame.

Come on people, let's try and make courtesy common again.

Intoductory Post

So you're probably wondering how I got the title... well, I'm currently writing this from 77 feet up in the air, in my dorm room. Considering I live on the seventh floor, and the average building 'story' is 11 feet, well, you can do the math.

Follow me here as I comment on whatever comes to mind.

Tschüss.