A Peculiar guy named Geremy

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1) Meet me 2) Remember me


I meet an average of 2 new people each day, but most people forget about me within a week of the initial meeting. My goal is to be stuck in the mind of those who I encounter like a tumor…a malignant tumor.

After thinking about different ways of achieving this goal, I came up with 3 options:
1) an 8×10 picture of myself
2) a Geremy F replica bobble head doll
3) a personal business card

Since an 8×10 of myself would probably be hard to handle because of the large size, and a bobble head doll would be too heavy (and freaky), I settled on the business card idea.

I want to be unorthodox by having a vertical business card rather than the typical horizontal format that everyone uses. Also, I want a simple design on the front with a brief summary of myself on the back. I want it to be simply amazing.

Biggest problem: I can’t design my way out of a paper bag (whatever that means), so I am enlisting the help of some of the visitors of this site. If you want to give it a whirl, contact me via e-mail, and you can be paid via cash, or some sort of barter system (I’ll give you my first born child).

Keep your eyes open, Geremology business cards are on the horizon.

The Three Salesmen



Earlier this week, I went with my pops to an exotic car dealership to buy, well, an exotic car and we were approached by 3 men who I would like to label “The Three Stereotypical Salesmen.”

Salesman # 1 looked like his name was “Big Al” . Big Al was a large man who wore at least 30 gold chains. Every word that came out of Big Al’s mouth sounded like a lie. Big Al seemed like the type of guy who would roll back odometers to fool a buyer into thinking that they are getting a car with 10,000 miles when they are actually getting a car with two gillion miles on it.

After my dad briefly spoke to Big Al about the car, salesman # 2 smoothly stepped into the office while speaking very loudly into his phone. I highly doubt that salesman # 2 was speaking to anyone on the phone because he seems like the type of guy who would speak to an imaginary person on his cell phone just to make people believe that he is someone important.

Salesman # 2 looked like his name was “Pretty Ricky.” Pretty Ricky was a tall guy who had light brown hair and hazel eyes. Pretty Ricky obviously thought that he was Mr. Hot Stuff. Pretty Ricky seemed like the type of guy who would be your best friend until you decide not to buy a car from him. For some reason, Pretty Ricky knew every way to push my buttons and I didn’t like it. Pretty Ricky, Pretty Ricky.

When my dad, Pretty Ricky, and Geremy (I like to refer to myself in third person from time to time) hopped into the car to take it for a test drive, Pretty Ricky nibbled on a “fun sized” bag of mini peanuts the entire time. He didn’t nibble on the peanuts itself, he nibbled on the plastic bag that contained the peanuts as if he was a little mouse. Pretty Ricky nibbled on the plastic so incessantly that I started to believe that the manufacturer of the plastic peanut bag soaked it in syrup. I couldn’t pay attention to anything in the car because Pretty Ricky nibbled as loudly as a hungry African wildebeest. STOP IT ALREADY, RICK!

When it came time to negotiate a price, the friendly faces of the two salesmen turned into the ferocious faces of hungry vultures. The men did not want to decrease the price at all, and they made it very known. When my dad pulled the old-fashioned “walk away and make them run after me” negotiating technique, salesman # 3 appeared out of nowhere.

Salesman # 3 meant business. He’s the genuine type of salesman who actually knows what he’s doing and is not out to scam you. Salesman # 3 seemed so innocent that I won’t give him a degrading nickname…he’s simply, “Salesman # 3.”

Just as my dad and I got into the car to drive away, salesman # 3 knocked on the window with his soft knuckles, and used his soft voice to settle on a price for the car that my dad was happy with.

…yet we didn’t complete the purchase.

I learned a few valuable lessons today:
1) Most salesmen fall into one of the three stereotypes
2) You must look for the “salesman # 3” if you want to be happy
3) If you are hungry, don’t nibble on the package—JUST OPEN THE BAG AND EAT THE NUT.

The Little Plane that Couldn’t


I wasted 1 hour of my life today in a park trying to figure out how to work a toy airplane. I followed the manual’s directions very carefully, but the plane kept doing nose dives into the ground. When I finally found a way to get the plane to stay up in the air, the battery died. Why must technology be so confusing?! Couldn’t they just put an autopilot button on the remote?

I’ll stick to the far less complicated things, like replacing motherboards and performing open heart surgeries.

My Cell Phone is my Life, and today I almost Died


I use my cell phone for everything. Since I’m always on the go, I always use the internet access on my phone to find the latest information, or to stay in contact with people.

Stay with me, I’m going somewhere here…

When my brother and I were on our way home from Walmart in my mom’s truck, a little kid (couldn’t be older than 17 years old) in a Dodge pickup truck swung in front of our truck while I was driving around 50 miles per hour, which caused me to slam brakes immediately to avoid hitting him. Slamming on the brakes made everything in the truck fly forward, including my phone, which went out the window.

I didn’t actually know that my phone went out the window until 4 hours later when a good friend and her boyfriend came to my house to re-deliver my phone. I had no idea that my phone was missing until she told me the whole story.

I’m going to use bullet points to explain the story because this might get confusing.

  • Sometime between the time when my phone flew out the window and when the phone hit the ground, my friend, Megan, called me.
  • When the phone hit the ground, a car ran over it (I assume, because it was really beat up), which caused the phone to freeze with her name and number on the screen.
  • A good samaritan picked up the phone, and attempted to call back Megan (with the phone) to return it to its owner (me).
  • Since the phone was frozen, he could not operate it, so he went home and called Megan from his home phone.
  • Megan got the call from the good samaritans who said that they found the phone and it listed her name as a missed call
  • After a little bit of investigative work, Megan saw that the phone was mine, but since she did not have my home phone number, she could not call me to let me know.
  • Megan and her mate drove ALL the way up to the good samaritan’s house to pick up my phone, then she drove ALL the way to my house to drop off my phone.
    **Sidenote: Megan has only been to my house twice and she actually remembered the directions**

  • As soon as Megan handed me the phone, the screen went blank. If the screen went blank 5 hours earlier, none of this would have been possible and this entry would’ve been a whole lot different.

I’m still amazed by how everything came together for me to get back my phone in just a matter of hours. I can’t even label this as luck—this is a blessing…and it pays to have good friends.

Now, I have to wait 16 days for T-Mobile to ship me a new phone to replace this broken one, but I’m not complaining because it sure beats having to save up $300 for a whole new phone.

My mind is BLOWN.

She Graduated While I Suffered


On Saturday, I spent 5 hours of my life (that I will never get back) at my sister’s college graduation. After 4 years of college and hundreds of thousands of dollars, she finally has a bachelors degree.

Rather than being proud of her for graduating college, I am proud of myself for getting out of that place alive. During the LONG ceremony, I lost my pulse 9 times and watched as the sun cooked my left foot and right arm.

The most eventful thing that happened during the ceremony was when a disgruntled student grabbed the microphone to protest about the many injustices that she faced while attending the school for four years. I was tempted to grab the microphone to speak about MY injustice by having to sit in the same chair for 5 hours to listen to the thousands of names read aloud one….by….one.

I’m looking forward to graduating, but I’m not looking forward to my graduation. Lord help me.

The Wrath of Thor-x


If you imagine the grueling pain associated with being awakened by the bright light shining from 10 million candles, you’ll know how I felt the morning of May 10, 2005.

Someone in my family decided that it would be funny to take the biggest, brightest flashlight/searchlight that we owned (named “Thor-x”) and beam it directly in the path of my sleeping eyes at 7 in the morning. Why would someone interrupt my sweet, sweet sleep to see me wake up with a look of misery on my face?! I can’t justify the actions of the person who did it, but one thing is for sure, OPERATION: RETALIATION is in effect!

Nurse Evil Makes an Appearance


After putting off this appointment for about 2 months, I have finally decided to get my blood work done and I am very lucky that my vein is still intact…or is it?

I drove to the lab and sat in the waiting room for about 10 minutes, then I was finally called into the room. I sat in the room with a smile on my face (because I’m a happy person) as I waited for someone to come take my blood. All of a sudden, the lights dimmed, the room got cold, and thunder shook the earthas NURSE EVIL entered the room—-NURSE EVIL FROM MY LAST BLOOD ESCAPADE.

Nurse evil must’ve visited my site and read about herself because she gave an evil little “bwahahaha” under her breath as she reached into the drawer and got the longest, fattest, double barrel, needle outfitted with a 2 liter blood canister. I reached into my pocket to get my cameraphone to snap some last images of myself because I was positive that this nurse had every intent to suck out every last ounce of blood from my body, but I stupidly left my phone in the car.

The nurse jabbed the needle into my arm and pushed, and pushed, and pushed until I felt the tip of the needle touch my shoulder bone. All of a sudden, she pulled out the needle halfway, turned it 20 degrees clockwise and pushed, and pushed, and pushed. When I thought that the worst of the experience was over, Nurse Evil started to make 360 degree turns with the needle—poking in every direction. I looked to my arm and I saw my veins in knots inside of my arm.

When I asked the nurse what she was doing, her excuse was “I can’t find your vein.” Since I was too much in pain to speak anymore, I couldn’t tell her “LET GO OF THE NEEDLE! IT’LL HURT A LOT LESS IF I JUST CHOP OFF MY ARM,” which was actually what was on my mind.

A few minutes later, she finally found a vein that she liked and she juiced it for every ounce of blood in it. She put a cotton swab over the dime sized hole that she created in my arm, then she sent me on my way.

My second rendezvous with Nurse Evil came to an end.

Nurse Evil: 2
Geremy: 0
Geremy’s Veins: -2,000,000

P.S: Forgive me if I sound bitter—I’m still shaken up.



After many bad experiences with my last dentist I decided to take the plunge and switch dentists. This “event” occurred 2 weeks ago, but because of all of the trauma and distress that I experienced, I had to wait 2 weeks to calm my nerves to write about it.

I walked into the dentist and let them know that I was interested in becoming a patient and that I would need an appointment for a checkup and a cleaning. The secretary looked into her “BIG-BOOK-OF-APPOINTMENTS” and asked, “how’s two o’clock?” This thing was going way better than I thought!!! I was able to secure an appointment the same day.

Three hours later, I went back to the dentist for the appointment and the dentist’s assistant took me in the room to take x-rays. After the x-rays, she began to clean my teeth, but her method was a little bit unorthodox. Instead of using the sharp poking thing to clean each tooth, she ripped every single tooth out my mouth and cleaned it while she held it in her hand. Well, I’m not exactly sure what she did, because I was too busy bleeding to notice.

Just when I thought the painful experience was over, she took out a piece of floss.

………dramatic pause………

She passed the floss down one side of the tooth, then brought it up on the other side of the tooth. HOW WAS THAT POSSIBLE?!

Was it over?? Not at all—it was just beginning!

Now, this woman has caused severe emotional and physical damage to me by using a sharp poking thing and a piece of dental floss, so when she pulled out a drill, I feared for my life. She put a buffing bit at the tip of the drill to polish my teeth, but with every whirr of the drill, I felt more and more of my teeth’s enamel being scraped off.

When the appointment was over and I got out of the chair, all of my teeth fell out of my mouth onto the floor of the office. Instead of asking her to fix it for me, I just stuck them all into my pocket and glued them back in using crazy glue when I got home.

That’s EXACTLY how the appointment went!

Geremy’s Living Will


With the whole Schiavo drama going on, a lot of people are urging others to create a “living will” and distribute it to their families. Well, I’ll take it one step further—I’m not only letting my family know, but I’m also letting the entire internet know.

In the event that my invincibile/immortal abilities fade and I’m on a hospital bed losing life rapidly, LEAVE THE FEEDING TUBE IN ME.

Let me make this absolutely clear. If the feeding tube isn’t available, you may:

  • take out the battery from the car and connect it to my brain
  • plug me into the wall
  • hook me up to a power generator
  • put thousands of rats on treadmills and connect the treadmills to my body
  • rip a hole in my chest and shove the food in there
  • pour the IV fluid down my throat
  • hire some hackers and make them hack my brain into working condition
  • hook me up to 2 solar panels, placed on the roof of the hospital
  • I don’t care what you have to do, just keep me alive. I won’t go without a fight.



    Friends and e-friends, it is my sad duty today to announce a death in my family. Out of the 4 other people who are part of this family, this death has hit me the hardest. He was not only a part of the family, but he was also my best friends. Ladies and gentlemen in the internet world, I am here to announce to you the death of Moto….Motorola V300.

    Right before I put my beloved phone to sleep indefinitely, I feel like it’s my duty to write him a heartfelt letter.

    Dear Moto,
    I feel so sad that it has to end this way, but you know what they say, “All good things must come to an end.”

    I remember bringing you home from Circuity City after shelling out $175 for you. Sure a hundred and seventy five dollars is a lot of money for a regular phone, but after I saw the way you looked at me through the display glass of the store, I knew that it was love at first sight and I had to have you. I was very reluctant to pay for you, seeing that I had rough relationships with phones in the past, but when I took you out of the box to look at you, your bright blue eyes calmed my nerves.

    I walked out of the store with you and put you in the front passenger seat because you were way too good for the back seat, then I drove home…drove like mad—I couldn’t wait to get home and play with you.

    I remember everything that we’ve done together, from taking pictures of people and objects, to instant messaging people, to spending hours talking to people, all because of you and the technology that you had in you.

    Throughout the years, we’ve spent a lot of time together and it was my dream for us to grow old together, that’s why I sent you back to your daddy (Motorola Inc) to get your hardware and software updated a few months ago. I CARED ABOUT YOU! So I only have one question for you…WHY’D YOU DO THIS TO ME?!?!?

    Everything was going good between us, then you decided to close your eyes (permanently turn off the backlight for the screen). I was in the middle of dialing a call, then you said “no” and you turned off the lights to your display. I couldn’t see what I dialed. I couldn’t see who was calling me. I couldn’t see if you were alive or not. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you turned your back on me, your timing couldn’t have been any more perfect.

    A mere THREE days after my warranty expired, you decided “Oh! Now’s a great time for me to die!” Your damages were not covered by the warranty that your maker put on you, which left me with a choice: a) prolong your life by sending you to the hospital (repair center) and getting you repaired for a hefty $150, or b) remove the feeding tube and allow you to rest peacefully.

    Well, you betrayed me, so I am forced to betray you and lay you to rest.

    Goodbye Moto, I will never forget you—and as a memorial, I will leave some of the pictures that I took with your camera online for everyone to remember you.

    Stay up, homey,

    Geremy F

    A Peculiar guy named Geremy