Vershun’s Brain Dump

OK so I was going to just get rid of this blog but for whatever reason it has a PR rating so I might keep it around.  I’m definitely going to be changing quite a few things around here after I finish up the 3 projects I have queued up.  This blog will be moved to blog.vershun.com.  I’ll probably stop doing posts with any sort of substance (there’s pretty much none of that already) and instead become a lot more project-oriented, which is what vershun.com will be about.  This blog will truly be used as an outlet for my weird,which was its original intention (see identifying a zombie, smoking, and mediocre sex guide for more details).

BUT since I have a new server and haven’t posted in a while, here’s some random pictures.  I’m posting them just cause I’ve been playing with PS recently and have really nothing else to post right now.  Plus there’s not enough pictures on the internet yet.

The Badlands in South Dakota

The shores of New England are far cooler than beaches

These things are horrifying. There's no zoom on this but I was sure as Hell in my car at the time.

What's better to do in Salem than check out graveyards and abandoned buildings?

Lauren and Dave in Moab. Sheer cliff on all sides but back.

Through New Hampshire during autumn was the best drive I've ever taken.

Peruvian pelicans with a predisposition to petulance.

Bad picture but two of the best and brightest people I know, love, and miss. Amateur caving in Cusco.

Leaving the peak of Mt. Bierstadt, Colorado.

I might post again soon I have a few things I want to write I just haven’t gotten around to them.

It had been a long day.  Long, LONG day.  When Laura and I got back to her apartment we decided to call it a night since we both were exhausted.  “I should have a cig before we crash out,” I had said.  Stupid.

So Laura and I are joking around, as per the usual, and she said something particularly funny which gave me a bit of a kneejerk reaction.  I wish I could remember the joke but I was busy putting my right foot down onto air.

The fences around Brooklyn are ornate and beautiful.  They’re also hard.  And sharp.  If you happen to be laughing at your friend’s joke and fall onto one of them, it hurts.

Fences and gravity in cahoots against my giggles.

+

=

Now, it just felt like I got the wind knocked out of me, so when Laura yelled “OH MY GOD ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” I laughed and said I was fine.

“No you’re not… you’re bleeding.”

The feeling you get when you look down and see blood spreading through your shirt could probably be best described as “unnerving.”  I applied pressure for a few seconds until I realized that it wasn’t too bad of a wound.  My breathing was fine, heart was intact, and I didn’t have an iron rod through my body.

Holla at a sternum.

So Laura was about to get an ambulance but we decided we’d just cruise instead; no point in spending money for an ambulance and it was such a nice night.

I made her take a picture with me before we set off.  If she looks uncomfortable it’s because she is.

We go to the first hospital that my GPS finds, which is a mile away and was some random Brooklyn hospital.  When we get there we fill out a computer touch screen asking me my name, age, and the problem, which Laura awesomely put “Hole in chest bleeding.”

I was 2nd in line.  Oh well.

Everyone called my doctor “Dr. Spikes” in the acute ward because of his spikey hair.  I thought it was ironic.

Worst.  Hospital.  Ever.  Took them about an hour to even see me once I got the stretcher thing.  Threw a bandage on it and IV’d me up.  The Jamacan nurse was awesome and kept calling me the “luckiest guy alive.”  When I left we hugged; I was her favorite patient of the night.  She was my favorite Jamacan ever (much nicer than experience with one waiting for the Chicago L who made a slicing-your-neck motion).

Dr. Spikes wanted a CAT scan of me, “just to be sure.”  So I drank a shitton of disgusting liquid and then got to wait around another 2 hours while they “prepped” (drank, I assume).

The CAT scan was pretty sweet.  When they put the activator liquid in they said, “You might feel some warmth in your arm and have a metallic taste in your mouth.  That’s normal.”  By no means was that “normal” to me but it certainly is kickass.  They should have continued on though and said, “the warmth will spread throughout your body and eventually hit your pelvic region.  This will make you feel like you just shit and pissed yourself and you’ll have to lay awkwardly for another 2 minutes until you can get up and survey the damage.”

I didn’t shit myself.  Win.

So the scan results were suppost to take “30 minutes.”  I was finally released 2 hours later.  It wasn’t so bad though because Dr. Spikes let me go outside to smoke, which I was a little weirded out about since the CAT scan was supposed to be looking for if I was bleeding into my lungs, but whatever… he’s a doctor.

Laura was hilarious the entire time and God bless her little heart she stayed with me in the hospital throughout the entire 5 hour ordeal.  She didn’t even want to come outside for that initial smoke in the first place.

Snapped when we got back:

And that was my night.  Missed my flight to San Francisco in the morning for my cousin’s wedding.  Suck.

Were pretty awesome imho.

That is all.

I was staying at this place in Toronto that offered furnished temp living or whatever. Essentially it was a hostel with private rooms and there were about 8 other guests.

The owners were a 50-something Asian couple that were cute as a giggling puppy.

Anyway.

So I’m mildly intoxicated and the internet goes out. This makes me angry.

I scour the house looking for the wireless router and I don’t see anything. This is at 2 AM or so and the whole house is asleep except for 1 dude who didn’t speak any English.

So the internet is down. In desperation I start searching cabinets in hopes that they just threw the router in there. Right outside the kitchen I scope this out:

So I figure it has some trinkets or hanging lanterns or whatever the hell people put in cabinets. When I go to open it I’m greeted not with shelves and a wall, but leethax:

As I ducked through there was a separation to the left and a little (tiny in every respect, maybe 3 1/2 foot ceilings too) hacklab, complete with cheap folding chairs, gutted computers, routers, switches, and just a hefty sized chunk of awesome.

Anyway, thought it was cool.

I’m all cracked out on Red Bulls and cigs (I’ve barely had any caffeine or nicotine for the past couple weeks and about a half pack + 3 redbulls tonight).

So I go outside for a smoke and I see a big rodent creature crossing the street. I was excited because I saw my first opossum recently up here so I sneakily follow it and it turns out it’s just a stupid fucking racoon.

I get up real close to the fucker and he stands up and looks at me like WTF U GUNNA DO?! This puts my shaky ass in a rage and I chase the fucker up a tree yelling “BACKACKAKCKAXKCCKCAKCKA.”

Anyway it turns out about 10 yards away a guy was smoking and he was just staring at me with his eyes wide and jaw dropped. I walk off muttering to myself and tapping my thigh like a crazy person.

Later, I went to take a piss and noticed 2 hideous and large growths on my penis. Terrifying.  Luckily they were just breadcrumbs. I’m wearing pants when I eat PBJ from now on.

Canada has warnings about smoking with pretty miserable pictures accompanying them.  Examples are:

I tried one of my own:

Approval pending.

I left Mishawaka a few days early.  Traveling up past Cleveland at around 1 AM a guy hung out the passenger side window on the freeway and drunkenly screamed “HEY I’M FROM COLORADO TOO!!!”  Not knowing how to respond, I thumbed (thamb?) up him.

My friend Lauri called and I repeatedly tried to impress her with my hotel-haggling abilities but to no avail; even the most atrocious of places were all taken up.  Eventually I found a terrifying little hotel way in the middle of nowhere where I settled down for the night and watched “Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter is Dead,” which is less about a dead babysitter and more about Christina Applegate looking hot.  Deal.

I stopped at a McDonalds the next morning to grab some deliciousness and use their free WiFi (combining my two favorite things on Earth, you wonderful company) to conduct some b.nis and check out things to do in Buffalo.  On the front page of Buffalo Times was the Blues Fest (tribute to Muddy Waters specifically, who I awkwardly love) going on in Niagara Falls.  Plus one more good karma point to McDonalds.

I’m walking to the festival when I see this:

I'm a huge sucker for silly signs

The Blues Fest was just getting set up so I wonder over to the only thing decent looking on the American side, a big rainbow-pretty Casino.  $10 dollars, 3 hours, and a pack later I was out.  Not a bad $10 spent, and while I’m a bit sore of losing the $80 payout what would you expect at a casino?

The band was just getting started (The Filter Kings, they were great), so I hung around a bit and then it started to rain.  Instead of finding shelter, I decided while I’m on the American side I might as well check out the American Falls a couple miles away (see it again I suppose; Lauri was with me the first time I went to Niagara Falls where I have fond memories of cheesy couples videos and arguing over exchange rates).

It’s lucky for me that I’m so ridiculously manly or else the freezing cold rain weighing down my sweater might have bugged me.

Please note the sweater my mother bought me and my crippling addiction to harmful chemicals as attributes of my testosterone.

Here’s a picture of the falls.  More importantly here’s a picture of all the wusses with all their life-saving waterproofing.

Pshka

As I stood there, marveling at the incredible beauty nature has taken thousands of years to create, only one thing went through my mind, “The Canadian side looks so much fucking cooler.”

Oh Canada! Teasin' those without passports.

Now.  Even sweeter than the falls were the rapids above them.  If you’re in the area, go see them.  It’s a quarter mile walk you punk, stop complaining.

This is where you throw unwanted children

I got back to the Blues Fest and watched a few more bands before I decided to head over to the hostel on the Canadian side.

As tacky as it is, I bought a shirt there (mainly because Lindsey did unspeakable things to the shirt I was currently wearing that I would not readily describe sober).

I'd wear Muddy himself

I didn’t think there was anything to do in Niagara Falls but the guy I met at the hostel told me differently.  There’s tons and tons of sweet stuff to do.  Unfortunately, I was only there for a couple days so I only got to do a jetboat tour ( http://www.whirlpooljet.com/ ) which was FANTASTIC.  10,000 gallons of water all up in your business going down class 5 rapids.  I thought I was really clever wearing really dirty clothes and going through a “free wash cycle,” but that water isn’t clean.  Fair warning.

What’s even more unfortunate than my fleeting stay is that I cut all the pictures from my memcard to my lappy which got a filesystem corruption a few days later (couldn’t even fdisk and mount -f from a LiveCD), so I lost ALL my pictures during this time.  For shame.  What I really miss are the pics of Kristy-Lee pwning up Area 51 and our sweet winnings.

I’ll give credit where credit is due, the hostel I stayed at in Niagara Falls was AMAZING and here’s a link to their site:  http://www.hostelniagara.com/ (enjoy the PR -3 backlink guys).

Wasn’t quite sure what to think of this one.

Had a blast in Niagara Falls.  I’ll write about it… errr… sometime.

It was a cool day in Toronto on September 5th and I was working diligently in a coffee shop on Queen street.  I anxiously checked my e-mail every 5 minutes, waiting for the lady I had met the day prior to give me my moving in information for the next day.  I was particularly looking forward to showering since for the past 2 nights of hostel sleeping I didn’t remove more clothing than my shoes.  I was, in a word, smellygross.  Due to the Toronto Film Festival I couldn’t find either a hostel nor a hotel for under $200 a night within the city for the weekend.  I figured one night on a park bench wouldn’t kill me (the night wouldn’t, people might), and I would be rewarded to my own place for the next week when I woke up.

Well.

It started to rain a bit, and regardless of my million and a half calls she would not pick up.  I assumed that I didn’t have a place to stay then, so I was bitching to Lindsey and decided that I’d roll back down to Indiana for a day or two.  Got there at 3-4 AM or so and we hung out for a few hours before I left and passed out in a church parking lot (thanks for the free bed… God).

Later that day I received an e-mail from Toronto lady saying she had filled the room.  Thanks lady, I hate your fucking face.

So I spent a little less than a week in Mishawaka, generally staying at the Bates Motel (nicknamed by Lindsey for the motel in Psycho) by night, working at Panera Bread during the day (see post about umbrella below), and hanging out with Lindsey, her 3 year old son Dom, and her mother in the evenings.

If you have never seen pics of Lindsey (Magik), first off, welcome to the internet.  Secondly, she’s cute.

Good moments:

Lindsey completely missing the bar stool and falling on her ass right after sassing the hell out of me.  Then spilling her drink all over herself that I discretely told the bartender to “put as little alcohol as you can in there.”  That whole night was awesome actually.

Dom making me painfully aware of the amount I smoke when I legitimately lost a “catch me” game outside.

Lindsey’s Mom’s ex husband and bar stories.

Hunger cravings.

Accidental cash donations to drugs stores.

A few days in Dom gave up the pretense of asking what’s in my pockets and just started reaching in there.  Awkward.

(Probably will be arrested for that pic).

However, he did get his hands on my camera and clumbsily took a few pictures that turned out pretty decent.

Dom’s tiny photo gallery:

I would like to thank Dom, Linds, and her mom for letting me hang out and letting a filthy, disgusting vagrant into your home (not me, I let him in when yall were sleeping in exchange for some crack).

So I was working at Panera Bread (the office) and I go outside to smoke and call my friend. All of a sudden a hurricane-esque wind picks up one of their gargantuan umbrellas and throws it into Panera’s glass. I narrowly dodge it and my pride of being Neo from the Matrix almost allows me to ignore all the aghast patrons of this fine establishment looking at me like I’m Osama Bin Laden.

Being the decent fellow that I am, I decide I will fold up this huge umbrella and put the minds of the innocent folks at ease. So I’m just about 4 feet from the enormous death pole that goes down the center of a table when another gust of wind PICKS UP THE FUCKING UMBRELLA AND SHOVES IT INTO MY FUCKING SHOULDER LIKE A SCENE FROM TROY. My arm was rendered useless and through the tears forming in my eyes I saw two attractive ladies laughing gleefully at me.

Anyway, I recovered and gracefully folded up the umbrella as the manager started grabbing the others.

Result:

Later on the same manager came by and said I get a drink on the house next time I come in due to the “umbrella incident.”

Evan: 2
Umbrella/Wind: 1

Fuckers.

This happened a few days ago.  Yesterday I went in there and as I was taking my food to the table I faintly heard him say “that’s the guy that….”  Guess we can’t always choose what we’re famous for.

I still have a pretty good mark on my shoulder from it.  Lindsey called it a “little scratch,” but I’m assuming she was just in shock from seeing such a serious injury.