Category Archives: Updates

A traditional update in the grand update tradition

What Are All These Dumb Things I’ve Found in My Closet

I know it’s bad when every single one of my updates starts off by saying, “Oh my God, you guys, I’m sorry I haven’t updated in so long!” and then ends by proclaiming, “I promise I’ll update again soon!”—only to have the terrible cycle continue. It’s a good thing that I have a personal webpage and not a newspaper, because I think half of the editions’ front page would include the headline: “Oh my God, you guys, I totally forgot to report on the news today! You have no idea how much homework I’ve had to do lately! I promise there will be news tomorrow!!!!!111?

In compliance with the philosophy of updating, I’ve created a new article entitled: “What Are All These Dumb Things I’ve Found in My Closet???”

I promise I’ll update again soon!

Emergency exits

A lot of buildings have emergency exits, which are like normal, practical exits, with one clever exception: You’re not allowed to use them. The only instance you’re allowed to use one of these amazing emergency exits is when there’s some sort of horrible disaster. I guess they’re worried that if you use an emergency exit when there isn’t an actual emergency, the door might not work correctly when there’s a fire or something. It’s as if they think you’re going to wear out the fucking door.

I don’t think these people understand how doors work. Doors aren’t like the chemical they use for fire extinguishers, which is finite and can be used up. Because of this, it makes sense to save fire extinguishers for when there’s a fire, and to not waste them just to spray your friends with as an hilarious practical joke. But doors can’t be used up. Nobody’s ever tried to leave a burning building and had to say to themselves, “Oh, great, this emergency exit is all gone! If only people hadn’t carelessly wasted it away when there wasn’t really a fire!” Doors don’t somehow disappear after you use them a few thousand times. Having an exit you can only use when there’s an emergency is like having a bed you can only use when you’re really exhausted, and the rest of the time you have to sleep on the floor.

The biggest reason I don’t like using the library at Michigan State is because literally 90% of the exits there are emergency exits. Whoever designed this building is convinced something terrible is going to happen to it. It’s very frustrating having to walk five minutes out of my way just to use the special non-emergency exits. It’s gotten to the point where I’ve started lighting bookcases on fire just so that I can get the hell out of there.

Drug test

I recently had to go to court to get sentenced for the now-infamous People of State of Michigan Vs. Eric Karjala case. I had thought my sentence would be little more than a slap on the wrist, but it turns out that it was more like a kick to the ass. One of the most special ed punishments I received was that I have to get randomly tested for drugs about once a week. This requires me to wake up at eight in the morning and drive out to Farmington, which currently ranks number one in eKarjala’s annual list of the ten most retarded cities in the world (followed closely by the nine nearest cities to Farmington). Last week I participated in my first drug test, and I found that they also made me take a breathalyzer test, in case I had decided to crack a few beers at seven in the goddamned morning.

For the drug test, they wanted me to pee in a cup, so I proceeded to go into the bathroom and shut the door. But the guy who was working there told me, “No, keep the door open. I need to make sure it’s actually your urine.” I was all, “What the hell are you talking about? How the fuck am I going to magically procure somebody else’s urine?” If they thought I was smuggling in a bag of pre-peed urine, they could have simply asked to check my pockets. But no, this guy’s job was to physically watch me pee. What Ivy League school did he attend to get involved with this line of work? There are homeless people who are overqualified for this profession.

The room I was peeing in had about fifty mirrors, so that he could see every single mathematical angle of my peeing performance. The pressure was clearly on. However, since I hadn’t drunk any liquids recently, I was only able to produce a minimal amount of urine. The Urine Guy literally reprimanded me about this. He said, “What are you doing? I can’t get a reading from this amount of urine. Throw that into the toilet and come back.”

Flash-forward thirty minutes later and I’m sitting in a parked car at a random Farmington gas station parking lot, waiting for the iced tea I had drunk to take effect. After I was confident I could pee a desirable amount, I drove back to the urine guy’s office and proceeded to unload a supply of urine fit for any king. He then takes it back into his office and has the nerve to tell me, with a completely straight face: “I’m sorry, this is too diluted. I can’t get a reading off of this. You must have drank to many liquids.”

Huh? Had I been transported to a bizarre fantasy world in which people could say something so retarded? Look man, if you’re not happy with my urine, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t really decide what’s on draft on any given day.

According to my sentencing, I will have to perform these tests on a random day of every week for an entire year. That means on any given day, I’m going to have to drop what I’m doing, drive out to Farmington, and piss in a cup. But it can’t just be any old piss—it has to be the perfect blend of piss that they demand. What makes this even more retarded is that they are charging me for these tests. Each time I take them, it will cost me about $20. But as for as I’m concerned, this is a service I’m providing them. People who know me know that my one policy in life is that if you want my urine, you’re going to have to pay me for it. When I used to go to my family doctor as a child and they wanted me to pee in a cup, in return they always handed me a cup full of animal crackers equal in mass to the amount of urine I had supplied them with. Where does Farmington get off charging me $20 for my own goddamned urine? What section of Consumer Reports is this bargain located at?

My exciting sentence doesn’t end with peeing into a cup, however. On June 25th I’m going to have to drive out to Novi to attend a “victim impact panel for drunk drivers” so that I can meet some of the victims who have been injured by drivers completely unlike myself. But wait, the fun doesn’t stop there! From July 18th to the 21st I’m going to have to attend a four day “Driver Intervention Program” at Hilton Garden Inn in Southfield Michigan. According to the information I’ve received, “I will not be allowed to leave the hotel or make any phone calls” at any time during these four days. So it’s kind of like prison, only you don’t get any phone calls and you have to pay $395 for it. So basically it’s a lot worse than prison.

In addition to these amazing punishments, I’ll have to pay over $600 in additional fines, be placed in probation for a year, and perform no less than 40 hours of community service by the 7th of September. If any of you people who live in Ann Arbor or the whereabouts (except Farmington) are affiliated with a legitimate non-profit organization, feel free to contact me and I’ll be happy to do some involuntary volunteer work. I’m totally serious about this. In fact, it would actually help me out. Simply email me for up to 40 free hours of non-profit work! It’s the bargain of a lifetime!

In other news, since I was feeling so down about the government which betrayed me, I decided to write a scathing critique of state flags in a segment I like to call The eKarjala State Flag Blowout! Take that, states!

Waiting tables

It being summer like it is, I decided to get what is known as a summer job. After a painstaking job selection process, I selected the job of becoming a waiter at a place called Comedy Showcase, because they were literally the only organization in all of Ann Arbor which would hire me.

Becoming a waiter is a bad move by me, because I’m bad at acting friendly, I don’t listen well and I’m also a little clumsy. However, I do have a policy as a waiter which I think other waiters should aspire to, and that is to always hand people their checks face up. For some reason, most waiters assume that the amount you pay for your chicken Caesar salad must remain confidential, and they constantly hand back people’s checks upside down. I think they feel that if they give you your check face up, the guy at the next table is going to be like, “Haha! Your bill is $21.29! You little jerk!” But I really don’t think anybody cares what your tab is because it’s not sensitive information.

On another note, there’s now a new section to eKarjala from the people who brought you Archives: Letters. In today’s special edition, you will be treated to many delightful clipart images.

Zero Tolerance

According to recent reports, I have not updated this site in awhile. I believe one of the reasons for this is because I’ve become embroiled in a legal scandal known only as “People of State of Michigan vs. Eric Karjala,” which has taken up quite a lot of my free time. When the court case began, I thought to myself, “Well surely the entire state isn’t against me on this one.” But when I showed up in court, every single resident of Michigan was there, most of them holding pitchforks and torches. The People of State of Michigan were clearly pissed off with me.

My tale of rebellious criminal activity originates last summer, when me and some of my chums were returning from a little place known as Canada. To make a long story short, we got pulled over in Farmington, Michigan for speeding, and, to make a short story even shorter, I was soon whisked away to a detainment cell. Prior to entering this cell, they forced me to empty my pockets, the contents of which included a comb. This was so that I couldn’t comb my hair while in the cell. They also took away my wallet, so that I couldn’t somehow construct a bomb using my Blockbuster video card and some Subway stamps, which had been my original plan. And in one last final act of humiliation, they inexplicably made me take off my shoes. I think this was because they suspected that if I tapped my shoes together three times, I could have summoned a magical wizard who would have helped me escape.

One might ask what I did to deserve these hours in the cell. One might answer that when they pulled me over for speeding, they gave me a breathalyzer test and I scored a .03 BAC. If you follow alcohol, this is approximately what you get when you sit across from a hobo on a public bus. There is no physical way a .03 BAC could affect somebody’s driving ability unless you are a kitten, and kittens shouldn’t really be driving in the first place. However, because I was 19 and a minor, this amount was enough to get me in trouble in accordance with Michigan’s Zero Tolerance policy. This policy means that, no matter what you do, they have no tolerance for it. They should create an A Little Bit of Tolerance policy, because I think having zero tolerance is pretty immature.

As it was, however, I was forced to attend what is known as a “pretrial.” This consists of you sitting on a chair in the hallway while your attorney and your prosecutor make jokes with each other in a separate room which you’re not allowed to enter. Sine they’ve all bumped into each other so often in the legal circuit, all the attorneys are good friends with all the prosecutors, and they aren’t really too concerned with what ends up happening to you. In my case, my attorney eventually told me to just plead guilty, which I did about a month ago. The People of State of Michigan had finally won, and townsfolk throughout the state immediately began celebrating their victory against me. Damn you, People of State of Michigan!