Gorgatron, Lord of the Cicadas

Gorgatron, Lord of the Cicadas

First of all, let me preface this by saying that I'm probably more proud of this than I should be. A few friends of mine threw a cicada party over the weekend. I thought that it was just a regular party called "The Cicada Party" to kinda justify having a party for those people who need a better reason than getting drunk and passing out on a floor covered in potato chips and salsa. So I later heard through the grapevine that there would actually be a live cicada eating contest. The gag reflex you're probably all feeling right now was my first reaction also. And if that sentence disgusted you, stop reading now. Because it was more than just a live cicada eating contest that made this a cicada party. I showed up and they had old bay cicadas, chocolate covered cicadas and cicadas in taco meat with taco shells and all the fixins. They had posterboard up for anybody who tried the different kinds to write their name down. And in this particular setting, people were impressed by these sort of accomplishments. I later realized that these accomplishments were not met with the same respect and reverence at work. In fact, I think I made Mike gag so much, he started to sweat.

So anyway, these posters were up there just begging for people with low self-esteem struggling to fit in to shove a dirty chocolate covered insect down their throat to earn a spot up on the wall of fame. And so I did. And then some hot chick convinced me to eat an old bay one. They really do taste like shrimp, by the way. But so does everything you douse in old bay. I had thought about signing the poster below it which would have entered me into the live cicada eating contest, but not after seeing the tupperware container full of them sitting outside. If you were even close to on the fence about eating a live cicada, seeing about 100 crawling around each other in a see-though plastic hell was enough to turn you vegan. It looked like something out of an Indiana Jones movie. And so I played flip cup. And then I played beer pong. And I don't remember specifically, but I probably played asshole too. At some point, I was swayed by either peer pressure, large amounts of alcohol, or a curiosity of my own competitive limitations when it came to winning something, and I signed up for the live cicada eating contest.

Honestly, I knew that nobody would give me a shot, but I knew my mind over matter reflex would trump the gag reflex to at least earn me a ride to the second round. I suppose it's also possible that I just don't give enough of a shit about my body to care what I eat. Or maybe it was the last 10 straight years of eating UMBC food that has prepared me. At any rate, I got to the next round. Before I had realized it, I was eating cicadas like they were jello. Crunchy, squirming jello that flaps its wings for a half second, but jello nonetheless. And after a photo finish determined a tie and I had to go head to head with Joelle, the hostess of the party, she punched me in the throat when it looked like I had gotten ahead of her. She was fined $50,000 by the league. So at this point, I made it to the final round, which combined agility with cicada eating. I was possessed at this point. I could have probably eaten a squirrel if somebody handed it to me. Anyway, after completing the two rounds of beer pong and flip cup and cicada eating, I came out a second ahead of the other guy. This marked several firsts in my life. It was the first eating contest I had ever won, it was the first cicada-related activity I had ever participated in, and it was the first time I ran sprinting to the bathroom to puke and had absolutely no desire to. That was weird. I expected to feel a whole lot worse after eating what turned out to be about 24 cicadas. Nothing. I was ready to go play flashlight tag. I had no ill effects at all. But for some reason, I couldn't sleep all that night. Maybe cicadas have caffeine in them too. So anyway, I am the Lord of the Cicadas until the summer of 2021. You may refer to me as Gorgatron.

Quote of the Day 6/9/04

"Happy 17th Birthday Cicadas!"

-Written in chocolate on a cookie cake


I think we showed them who the more dominant species is once and for all.

Lord of the Cicadas,

Gorgatron.


Still Standing Right Here...

The Cicada Monologues

The Cicada Monologues

So I went to Austin and came back to find that the cicadas haven't all died off yet. And they're out in force now like they're pissed off about something. Maybe my insidious mockery of their species (Ed. note: he doesn't know what the word insidious means and don't bother correcting him because he never will), but I somehow doubted. I'd say they're swarming now, but I don't really think they could form a swarm. When I think of swarms, I think of organized schools of creatures moving together as one. These guys aren't nearly as organized, which makes them more annoying, but less likely to be the leading role in an NBC made-for-TV horror movie. It's really gotten to the point that I see other insects around and my first thought is like "Hey. You're not a cicada! Who the hell do you think you are?!?" Like grasshoppers should cease to exist for a month or something. I've actually had two run-ins with cicadas since I've been back. Both happen to be moderately humorous, which is to your benefit.

Tuesday, I was coming to a stop sign and I saw a cicada headed on a trajectory that looked like it would lead it right into my window. I thought about skidding to a stop or swerving, but then I thought that was a slight overreaction, so I just ignored the cicada path flight in hopes that it would bank left or something. I'm not going to let these ignorant fuckers dictate how I stop at a stop sign. So I stopped and sure enough the bastard flew right into my window and conked me in the head with a hammer (OK, maybe not) and it still freaked me out like I was a little 3rd grade schoolgirl. Thankfully I swatted it out the window in my epileptic fit of "get it off!" So that was Tuesday.

Today was even funnier because it involved a third party. I got pulled over today for rolling through a stop sign that I roll through everyday. It's at the bottom of a hill and my brakes are so shot, I can feel the drum solo from Bonzo's Montreaux playing in the wheel well when I try to stop, so I feel no need to put further wear and tear on my car just to dignify federal law. I refrained from telling the cop all this, despite the fact that I was drunk off my ass at 9:30 in the morning (no he wasn't). Anyway, I pulled to the side of the road, and I hadn't learned from yesterday or countless near misses I've had, to drive with the windows up for these few weeks. And I happened to pull over right next to an extremely high cicada traffic area. So as I'm ducking into my glove box to get my registration, one of those icky fuckers takes a B-line for my head (again) and kamikaze dive-bombs into my car. I freak out (again). But this time I've got a situation to handle. So I manage to lose the cicada in the car and I continue to fumble for my registration.

The cop comes and asks for my license and registration. I tell him I'm working on it and that there's a live cicada in the car and not to freak out if it flies up at him. This was really just a courtesy because I'm sure whether he was warned or not, he was gonna freak out if the cicada came up from underneath the tape deck and dive-bombed him in the head. So he chuckled and asked if I knew why he pulled me over. "Because I rolled through that stop sign that I -..." and I stopped myself just in time, despite the fact that I was high at 10:45 in the morning (Ed. note: Dustin likes to lie a lot. Good luck separating the truth from the bullshit (Ed note 2: Not only do I edit my own material, but I do it as I type it, which isn't really editing at all. My English teacher is probably rolling over in her grave right now. Except she's still alive, so she's probably just rolling over in her bed. Sorry about the rant, but I've been hitting myself in the head with a bat for the last half hour).). [Where the hell was I?] Long story medium, he gave me a warning. I don't know if it was because I worked at UMBC, my humorous and jovial demeanor, or the fact that he made me play with his testicles for 10 minutes, but I got off (I'm not going there). But now there's a cicada in my car and it gives me the willies because I couldn't find it. As the cop was writing the warning, I actually got out of my car and looked under the seats for the damn thing, but to no avail. So I'm gonna have a dead suffocated or heat-stroked cicada in my car. And maybe I'll have about 500 more of them in my car in 17 years. That would probably shoot the resale value to shit.

Quote of the Day 5/31/04

"You know if you pinch their wings together, they can't move."

-OIT Dan


I think this quote is funny because a 23-yr-old Aikido brown belt TA has owned up to knowing a submission hold for cicadas. I'm sure his students are proud.

Using the AC for a few weeks,

Hiding cricket.


Still Standing Right Here...

Roommates Wanted, Cicadas Not

Roommates Wanted, Cicadas Not

I'd be pissed if I were a cicada. They waited 17 years to come out and they finally come out and it's been rainy and crappy since they got here. I'd be like "fuck this man, i'm going back in the ground. i'll see you all next year. i mean, why the fuck do we all gotta come out at the same time and shit? do other animals do this? fuck no! dem fuckin bees been here since i was here last time and i can here them out there makin honey an shit every year. it's bullshit! this is my one two-week vacation every 17 years and i ain't spendin it outside in the fuckin rain! dat's why we ain't indigenous to seattle an shit. peace out." At least that's how I figured I'd talk if I were a cicada. But it's hard to really tell.

This letter isn't so much a quote of the day as it is a plea for roommates in the fall. And not to put the squeeze on, but I need to know by tonight. All my roommates are engaged and moving out. I'm to that age now I guess. I actually went to two weddings in the same week. So I figured that hanging out with younger people would better my odds of feeling younger. Nope. All 3 of my roommates are engaged at 22, 23 and 22 years old. I'm going to have to start hanging out with high school kids now just to make sure they aren't all getting married. At least at that age, they're only having kids (ouch). Sorry, I got off track. I AM LOOKING FOR TWO ROOMMATES BEGINNING AUGUST 2004 IN CATONSVILLE. They're moving out and I need to renew my lease by tomorrow if I'm going to at all. Either that, or I WILL NEED A PLACE TO STAY BEGINNING AUGUST 2004. I would prefer if only people around the Maryland area would respond. Though I know Kevin needs a roommate up in Maine, I don't really care much for the 15 minute commute from Columbia. I have a feeling 9 hours would get on my nerves. Unless you have a job that goes along with it. In which case, I AM LOOKING FOR A ROOM AND A JOB AND A ROOMMATE. MAYBE A DOG. I HAVEN'T DECIDED YET. Yeah, but I need to know by tonight if anybody just wants to hop into the extra rooms. Call me if you are seriously thinking about it. But not if you're in a bad mood. I don't need all that shit on my mind what with all this cicada nonsense looming over me.

So I went to the great Geoff Rupert's wedding. If you don't know Geoff, picture whatever friend of your who you'd thought would be a bachelor forever. Now picture him getting married. That's Geoff. He was doing shots during his wedding and his dad was talking over the microphone. Mike went running over to him to tell him his dad was giving a speech and Geoff came back into the main room. After a few seconds, he returned to his shot. His dad was still talking and Mike gave Geoff a look...

Quote Of the Day 5/18/04

"What? He wasn't even talking about me."

-Julie Rupert's husband


Awesome.

Clinging onto whatever I can now,

Dustin.


Still Standing Right Here...

Emergence of the Cicadas

Emergence of the Cicadas

Hello again everybody. All apologies for the unscheduled absence, but just as I came back from Charlotte, Geoff, Mike and Gary went on a trip to Albuquerque, leaving me to do the work of 4 people for 6 days (which took me only 22 days - I cut corners). But then I remembered the promise that I made to 23 people I hardly speak to almost 10 years ago. And so I've returned. So the cicadas are finally out. and I for one am happy about it. I was beginning to think it was all a big hoax. It was already midway through May and I hadn't seen any of the little bastards. I thought they were supposed to be blanketing the sky and shutting out the sun, eating through windows, and swarming on the roads so much that you could hit a patch of cicadas and skid on them. Well, they started to surface finally. I think they needed a rain so that the worms could show them the way to the surface. And they'll be flying around in the next day or two. They're actually relatively harmless, despite the stories you may have heard (I was alive last time they were around). They'll fly around and hit you in the head and then fly off, and then they'll come back and hit you in the head. And their rattlesnake song is actually rather peaceful sounding. Well, gimme two weeks. Maybe I'll be out there with a tennis racket beating the life out of them. Of course they're all gonna die in a few weeks. They live underground for 16 years growing until they're mature enough to come out. Then they come out, fuck, have eggs, and die. And the next generation will come out in another 17 years. Wow that sucks. So none of them hit the snooze alarm for another year I guess. What a fickle species.

Quote Of the Day 4/17/04

Keith: "I find it hard to breath indoors."
Jason: "I find it hard to breath in water."


I know what you're thinking. Jason is weird.

Hitting the 17-year snooze alarm,

Screaming Cricket.


Still Standing Right Here...