Some Whiny Kid's Random And Irrelevant Complaints

I am alive

2011-12-31T23:50:00.001-05:00

Currently Listening To: Dancing On My Own by Robyn

I'm so OCD that I feel compelled to post to this at least once a year so there aren't any gaps in the yearly index.

Here is what I've been up to.

On Fire

2010-12-27T09:01:00.001-05:00

On Fire
Originally uploaded by Chin Chinau.

Seventh Inane Dream Entry

2009-09-26T14:13:00.002-05:00

Currently Listening To: Walking With A Ghost by Tegan And Sara

I am really bad at this blog thing. It's been a month.

Here is my best dream from last night (I say best because it is the only one I remember):

We're in New York. Also, we're in Paris. We're at the World Trade Center/Eiffel Tower, which is currently being attacked by a mad engineer. Fortunately, superheroes R. Lee Ermey and One Of The Kids From "Toddlers and Tiaras" were there to save the day. Except the villain's plan went in to effect quicker than expected, and Toddlers & Tiaras' mom and I watched helplessly as our heroes were instantly vaporized by an enormous, super-hot fireball.

The only "meaning" behind the dream I can come up with is my innate desire to see the GI Joe movie, which showed the Eiffel Tower being attacked/destroyed.

The real culprit behind the dream was likely my excellent evening last night. Carrie (my radio-show co-host) and I went to see Yeah Yeah Yeahs at 9:30 Club, which was indescribably excellent. Toward the end, Karen O (in between deep-throating the microphone) threw a towel in to the crowd, and a group of six or so people spent the next ten or fifteen minutes fighting over it. Lolzy.

Coming home on the Metro (the beloved, eventful Red Line), we saw a guy get punched in the face. This group of guys and gals got on at Dupont Circle. They'd clearly been "out"/drinking. At the next stop, one of them heard someone on the platform talking very loudly/excitedly to his buddy, and the guy on the train pokes his head out and shouts, "Yeah, I know, right?"

The guy on the platform didn't appreciate that. He runs over to the train. At this point, he is blocked from my view by the wall of the train, so all I see is a fist come through the door and slam in to a guy's face. A different guy than the one who shouted. The fist disappears, the intercom beeps, the doors close and the train pulls away. We see them man who punched the other guy standing on the platform, beating his chest as the train goes by.

Once we got to our stop, Carrie and I went to Seven-Eleven for our post-concert tradition. She gets a slurpee, I get a Double Gulp/diabetes. I paid with a five, got a dollar and change back. Took the dollar, bought a scratch off lotto ticket. My winnings? Five dollars. This was about 1 am, so the cashier told me to come back tomorrow (now today) to redeem my prize, which I will spend on five more scratch off lotto tickets.

This is how people get addicted to gambling, right? Fantastic!

This Video Needs To Be Everywhere

2009-08-24T08:19:00.002-05:00

I saw this video on YesButNoButYes. I'm not nearly as creeped out by this kid as they were. Quite the opposite; I think this kid is hysterical and in no way deserving of the moral-panic bullshit observed in the comments section. Glad to see that Helen Lovejoy now has internet connection.

Prince of Prolonged Pronunciations

2009-08-05T23:19:00.004-05:00

Currently Watching: South Park (Eek! A penis!)
All I've got to say about the new Harry Potter movie is that the extent to which Alan Rickman acts is he just drags out whatever he's saying.
"That's... a bold...

...

...

accusation."

He's a great actor, except, well, this isn't really acting. I don't recall any time in the Potter books being devoted to how dragged-out his words are. It makes him seem more sinister, but really, that can be done a little more subtly. I know this because I'm an expert, because I've been to one year of college.

This is the town where I went to high school:

Don't worry, less than 500,000 views at this point.

2009-08-01T20:14:00.002-05:00

Currently Watching: The 40-Year-Old Virgin

I'm watching it on Oxygen.

Seriously? Isn't this the exact opposite of the demographic they're supposed to be going for?

This post is incredibly Twitter, both in terms of length and importance of the subject matter.

Marbles Harsgrove

2009-07-30T19:06:00.003-05:00

Currently Watching: Being Human
I haven't posted in a while, because frankly I haven't really had any thoughts in a while. My head is an empty void.

To make up for it, here is (in accordance with Wired's less than 500K views rule*) a series of YouTube videos I have recently fallen in love with.

I bring to you, Marbles Harsgrove:

Marbles seems to have disappeared after this last video, from early 2008.

*This month's Wired has a section with Brad Pitt's tips for the digital gentleman. One of these rules is the never post anything with more than 500,000 views, at the risk of being on the tail end of what may be a very brief fad. If it's less than 500K, it hasn't really exploded yet.

The Greatest Hour Of Television I've Ever Seen

2009-07-01T23:29:00.003-05:00

Currently Watching: Aqua Team Hunger Force
As I've discussed -- at length-- Lost is my favorite TV show. I am obsessed. I am in various stages of watching the show; new episodes on ABC, random episodes online and the two syndication cycles on SciFi channel (SyFy as of next Tuesday). So if you asked me the best show on TV, I would answer "Lost".

The best episode of TV, however, will not be found in Lost. There are some extremely good episodes of Lost, but none have really stuck with me like this one episode of Law and Order SVU.

I watched it during one of those SVU marathons back when I could stand to watch the show, about four years ago. I had just gotten a satellite receiver in my room, and had similarly just gotten sick, so I was sprawled out in my bed all day, watching the conveniently timed marathon.

The episode starts out with two people arguing in a car. The conversation is brought to an abrupt end when a body lands on the windshield. He's been thrown from a roof and, as we find out later, castrated. The cops find out that he was on the roof to rape, and was forcing a woman to fellate him before she chomped it off and threw him from the roof. She fled, leaving them without a victim, so they look around, and the episode wastes some time developing some shelter-dweller's story. She may have been on the show before, and that's why the characters and writers cared. I didn't. Something about a nun? There was a mildly attractive nun on several episodes, and this may have been one.

Finally the cops end up at a prep school, where there is an extracurricular graffiti-ing team, but unfortunately the team does not abide by Title 9, so homely girl is excluded. To prover herself, she climbs on top of the building from earlier to spraypaint a visible-yet-inaccessible billboard. Halfway through, rape. Dick bite. Cut and dry, until forensics reveal the saliva on the penis was a male's. This is where it gets interesting.

Homely girl has a twin brother, whose DNA is a perfect match. Obviously he was the dick chomper. But he's got an alibi, and it checks out, so it's not him.

It WAS the sister, except she's not a sister. She was born a male, but during circumcision, they took a little too much off the top, and it was decided to just go all-in. That's right, circumstration.

And (s)he didn't know, thanks to the dilligent hormone therapy of the family doctor, who sees the twins with some frequency. Also, has sex with the twins with some frequency. The investigation brings this to light; the jig is up.

Then the doctor turns up dead. There's some DNA on the body, but it matches both twins, and they're not talking. As the cops bemoan their inability to move forward without any other evidence, we see the twins in separate interrogation rooms, with their heads against the wall, communicating telepathically, as twins do.* DUN DUN.

That shit give me more nightmares than spiders on Lost ever could. Creepy kids are the pinnacle of terror.

*I do not trust twins and their twin talk in the same way that I don't trust people with heavily tinted windows; what's going on in there that we're not allowed to know about.

Also, yes, you did just read a post that was just an SVU recap. I'm sorry.

Giant Spiders

2009-06-28T22:14:00.002-05:00

Currently Watching: Outbreak
I wouldn't consider myself an arachnophobe. I don't hate spiders. I don't like them by any means, and I won't seek them out, but they don't send me on top of chairs when I see one.

But judging by the dreams I've had about spiders, I'd say they may be the greatest irrational fear I have.

The last time I had a nightmare about spiders, it was after I watched the episode Exposeeee, of Lost. I dragged out the e because I can't do accents, despite the best efforts of every Spanish teacher I've ever had. For the uninitiated, that episode is about two minor characters and they're arguing and lying and backstabbing, and at the end they're both bitten by spiders. First, the girl throws a spider on the guy, and then another one shows up and bites her. Except these spiders don't kill, they just paralyze. Except no one else on the Island (who is alive) knows this, so everyone assumes they are dead and the couple is buried alive. And right before the others start shovelling, HER EYES OPEN.

Oh, the terror.

And I had a nightmare that night, about being bitten by spiders while being underground. Obviously my subconcious wasn't paying too much attention during the show.

Then last night I had another spider-mare. I can't remember it nearly as vividly as the Lost dream, but I do remember man-sized spiders chasing me and characters from Indiana Jones (spoiler alert: Sallah got eaten). And at the end, Indy and I defeated the spiders, except I knew that it was only a temporary victory and that mankind would some day die at the hands of these arachnids.

Now, I'm a believer in interpreting dreams, and the first spider dream makes sense; I was just re-capping an episode of Lost I'd seen hours prior.

But what the hell does the second one mean?

This Post Now With 100% Less Relevant Title

2009-06-22T21:35:00.004-05:00

Currently Listening To: Saturday Night by Kaiser Chiefs, a sophomore-year classic
Tonight was a big night in our house -- the "big announcement" episode of Jon and Kate.

My littlest sister was going to watch it later -- she and a friend were occupied with something else -- but my older-younger (I have long struggled with how to differentiate between the two of them without using names, for when I'm talking to people who don't know my sisters) sister was ready to watch now. Junior (as I've taken to calling her lately; youngest is Nugget) was ready to watch now, so she came in to my room.

Blame it on my short attention span, but I was on my laptop while watching TV. Five minutes in to the TV, I saw on IMDb that the "big announcement" had leaked early. I clicked on the headline, which led to a page with all of IMDb's related articles. The first to catch my eye was a Huffington Post article begging readers not to support this show any more.

So I didn't.

Normally I try not to be so swayed by someone else's opinion. While I'm not of the mind that there's always two sides to a story (sometimes people are just right), I do like to weigh options. But I saw "don't watch" and was just compelled. Huffington Post's reason for the boycott was the Helen Lovejoy argument. I don't subscribe to Helen Lovejoy's beliefs; fuck the children. The reason I didn't watch is because my recent obsession with this has made me into a hypocrite. This is a reality show. I don't watch reality shows.

Now, I am not completely averse to documentary shows. I love Anthony Bourdain's show, and really any travel shows. Anything that isn't hyped on drama, which is exactly what Jon and Kate has strayed from, unlike the other sideshow-shows on TLC (I'm looking at you, Midget House 1 and Midget House 2). Jon and Kate has become the Hills. It's not about "How does a normal couple deal with the day-to-day of a large family?" anymore. The episodes are no longer, "This week, how they deal with shopping," et cetera. It's now half-soap opera ("Will they or won't they?" I have LOST for that, thanks so much), half rich-people-day-to-day. As happy I am that they now no longer face financial problems, the fact that they no longer deal with penny-pinching and coupon clipping (and thus there is no need for a shopping episode) has driven the human element from the show. They aren't normal people any more.

So I turned it off five minutes in. National Geographic had a show on about the history of the US and Iran's relations, so I went for that.

Junior asked me if I was retarded. Then she left.

Creepy Kid In Checkout Line

2009-06-18T23:03:00.002-05:00

I was in line today at the Terget... I was buying a shirt because I was all sweaty and I don't manage money very well. Seriously, twice I bought underwear instead of doing laundry while off at school. I'm terrible, and thus I'm broke.

But back to business. I'm in line at the check-out, shirt in hand. In front of me is a woman with a cart, and there's a kid in the seat in that cart. And he's staring at me. I normally don't like it when people stare at me (does anyone?) but this kid was particularly unsettling. He wasn't staring, he was staring daggers; he was glaring at me.

So I'm alternating between looking away (because like I said, staring makes me uncomfortable) and looking at the kid to see if he's still staring. I don't know, in case he jumped me or something. You never know, a three year old could have a knife on him.

But he kept staring. He was like determined. To stare at me.

And finally he starts talking (toddlers can talk? Whaaaa?) He says "Boo boo" and starts rubbing his forehead. A forehead that is clearly untouched; he's talking about my forehead. He stops saying boo boo and starts shouting it. This kid is freaking out about the "boo boo" on my head. To the best of my knowledge, there is nothing wrong with my forehead, and there wasn't anything wrong with it six hours ago.

What the hell was that kid talking about?

I may never know.

Comment Section

2009-06-16T16:37:00.002-05:00

Currently Listening To: Cuddle Fuddle by Passion Pit
This whole web 2.0 nonsense (and yes, I realize that would include, say, my facebook, youtube and blogspot accounts) is based upon user-created content. And you know, there is some stuff of value coming from it. Every so often I'll see a funny or insightful video on youtube, or read something of interest on blogger, and facebook is good for keeping in touch with friends over the summer and planning events during the year, and also talking shit about people I know with other people I know.

But then I'll read an article on a news site. Pick any news site. Almost all of them do it. At the bottom there will be a comment section, and nothing thoughtful or coherent will be contained within. If the article in anyway references politics (or even if it doesn't), within five comments it will have been reduced to "liberls r ritarded" "no conservitivez sukkk big tyme" "no u guse r pansies GO 2 FRANCE!!!" "hay fuck u racist"

I actually really enjoyed typing that.

But I digress. The four comments leading up to that disintegration will more than likely be "first". You'd think that only the first one would say that, and then the second would say second and so on an so forth, but usually they will all say first because people are so refresh-happy that that will all see the article the second it is published and immediately and simultaneously head for the comment box. That's my first issue with the "first" phenomenon. My second is, as I'm sure everyone else who isn't guilty of this nonsense, "How on earth is this in anyway relevant to the discussion?" Very rarely do these ever have anything beyond the "first". They just leave it that. Never a "first"+"The Great American YouTube Comment".

Web 2.0 has given voice to the voiceless, and shown why they were voiceless to begin with; they had nothing to contribute.

And yet, the once-respectable news sources like CNN have been reduced to asking what we think. To consulting twitter, to giving polls and asking for viewer videos. The results on this rap are then presented alongside the news. The already non-news Letterman-makes-a-joke-about-Palin's-daughter bit becomes even less interesting when I hear that it's only still on Fox News' homepage because 60% of readers think his apology wasn't enough. The news shouldcover events. This story skidded to a halt when Palin accepted the apology... but now they've left it open-ended.

I suppose, as dearest freshman year at college has taught me, I should suggest some sort of solution. I don't have one. At least, one that doesn't evovle removing these people from the gene pool. It's only like this because people eat this shit up. Ooh, CNN wants my video. CNN should have specified; they need your video or your tweet when you're on the scene of the downed plane or the riots in Tehran, not when you have some inane commentary. They've already got guys for that.

Juno Betrayed

2009-06-01T21:10:00.002-05:00

I'm watching Juno on HBO. Haven't seen it in a while, and at and hour and ten minutes in, I'm reminded why I don't rewatch this movie as often as I do some of my other favorites.

Jason Bateman's betrayal floors me every time. I suppose it isn't a betrayal the same way 006 betrays James Bond in Goldeneye, or something like that, but it still hits hard. This kid trusts him. Jennifer Garner (whom I loathe, except in this movie) trusts him. He fucks everything up! Enter my over-thought, self important analysis of this movie: Obviously it's about kids, being that it tracks a teenager's pregnancy. But beyond that, it's about grownups who are still kids. Juno, though a minor, is an adult in the freshman-year-biology-class sense of the word. She can reproduce. And yet, she is completely unaware of what a perv Bateman is, despite her stepmom's warning. Bateman himself is also a kid, thirty-something and still dreaming of being Cobain, as Jennifer Garner puts it, rather than wanting a family.

What's worse is Juno will probably find herself in the same situation as Jennifer Garner in ten years. Bleaker is obsessed with "the band", and in true childlike fashion, thinks of pregnancy in terms of being what "moms and teachers" do.

It's this level of douchebaggery that tell me that I really have changed after a year of college.

Sales Call I Had The Other Day

2009-05-27T13:50:00.002-05:00

Tuesday morning, I'm sitting at the breakfast table. The phone rings. No one in our house ever wants to pick up the land-line; I hesitate.

Caller ID looks like its a sales call, but I pick it up any way.

At that very moment, I can hear my mom running to the phone upstairs, picking up the receiver at the very same instant that I do.

"Hello?" I ask.

"Hello?" the woman on the other end responds.

"H-Hello?" This awkward exchange seems to happen every time talk on the phone; how are you supposed to answer? "[surname] residence, [name] speaking"? I guess that makes sense. I'll try it next time.

The telemarketer starts her script. We've won a cruise, or there's a deal for refinancing the mortgage or something. There's a wide variety of subjects covered by these calls, but they all run together in my mind. She gets a few sentences in before I hear a click. My mother gave up, and hung up the phone.

There's a pause.

"WELL FUCK YOU MOTHERFU--" click

I'm going to try and time my picking up these calls such that I get to hear that every time we get a sales call.

That's So Twitter

2009-05-01T19:40:00.002-05:00

Currently Listening To: The Fear by Lily Allen
Everyone's all about twitter these days. CNN.com has it in at least one top headline daily (and it makes me puke... seriously. Missing children* are newsworthy compared to the Ashton Kutcher/CNN twitter-off). So if you don't know what twitter is, just ask me, dad.

But Twitter is, quite simply, twittarded. If you can say it in 140 characters, you don't have anything to say. And it shows. What you had for lunch, sitting in traffic, your American Idol live blog? No one needs to read that. And yes, blogs are equally as moronic, but I at least invest time in to this (when I actually write). Twitter = blog - content, so it's basically titles to blog posts. If it matters, you can expand on it.

But I digress. The minutia of Twitter has resulted in mon ami Johanna and I's "That's so Twitter". Whenever someone comes in the room and announces "I just finished a paper" or some similarly irrelevant comment, we reply, "That is so Twitter." It's code for "no one cares" but I can't say that because passive aggressiveness is in.

*Missing children are not newsworthy. Well, most of the time. They're newsworthy when they go missing, when they're found, when it goes to trial, etc. But Nancy Grace and whoever her counterparts on Fox and MSNBC shouting at parents, accusing them of the crime because goddammit she's Nancy Grace and if she didn't know this shit, why would she have a show?

Nancy Grace, we have a justice system for a reason. You are not Judge Judy and executioner, so stop pretending to be.

It's Apparent It's All Over

2009-04-24T23:49:00.003-05:00

Currently Listening To: Not Fair by Lily Allen
Oh why hello there, blog. It has been quite a while.

I don't know whether it's been disinterest or business keeping me from updating my lil diary. Probably a little bit of both. Disinterest because I've become quite the little attention-deficit... dwarf. That's a good d-word. But yes, I've been well assimilated into the geezer's stereotype of the youtube generation of short attention spans... wait what. I mean seriously, I actually got distracted while typing this. Went to change the song on iTunes and lost my train of thought. Seriously?

Busy because, well, I tend to be doing shit this year a lot more than I have ever done in my entire life, like, combined. This college thing is working out quite well for me, if I do say so myself. While I may not always be galavanting around our nation's capital, I'm usually up to something. I've got a radio show (our last show of the year was tonight), I go to concerts a lot more than I used to, or I've got some scheme running... Three weeks ago I was trying to dye my hair with Kool Aid. That was quite an experiment, with many linens lost in battle. My green comforter has several red sploches on it.

In early March, my radio co-host Carrie and I begged for money to buy batwing hoodies from American Apparel. We put the change in a water-cooler jug and hauled all of this change down there. Paid in change! Poor Ralph Alston had to count out more than fifty bucks in coins. But I'll be damned if we didn't look trendy as hell.

I've really got little else to say, at least for now. Maybe I'll be struck with an inspirational burst sometime soon. Maybe?

Resolve

2009-01-03T19:18:00.002-05:00

Currently Listening To: In Step by Frankmusik
Last year I set out to make one-word titles for posts on here as much as possible. Of course, I subconsciously-simultaneously set out to post less, so see how that went. Hopefully this years resolutions will go better.

I was driving around last week, spending money I shouldn't have on things I don't need (stimulating the economy -- need to do less of that). I had taken my mom's Mustang out, because it's smaller and has the satellite radio, meaning I don't have to bring CDs and feed them in and out of the player. Except, now that Sirius has merged, they dropped a few channels I liked and muddied up the ones they kept, so I now pretty much only listen to BBC1, since it's unaffected. The host was talking about resolutions and said one of his was to learn to play the ukulele, which I decided was an awesome idea. I'm currently on the prowl for them, scoping out music stores when I drive and looking up prices online. I'd say this is my most-likely-to-succeed, I'd say.

in addition to wasting money less, I also need to find a job, both at school this semester and at home this summer. Ideally, I'd work at the Best Buy near campus, because that seems easy enough and that's where I waste the most money. Finding one on campus might be better, though; those seem to pay a bit above minimum wage, would look much better on a resume and would be more accomodating to my schedule, seeing as they wouldn't need me during the semester and on brakes, seeing as the student body, including myself, wouldn't be there. Yeah, that's probably the way to go.

A resolution that I've done before but will likely not follow through with is to stop washing my hair. It's really just an endurance test; how long before I become so disgusted with myself. I'm also going to grow my hair out, except that my understanding of... hair dictates that those two in combination will result in dreadlocks, and the washing will definitely re-commence at that point in time. Can I call not growing dreads a resolution? But I digress; not shampooing is being undertaken so I can style my hair without gel or hairspray, which I've very rarely done but now cannot do because of my eyebrow ring, and taken better care to clean that little bugger could be another resolution, but I really do need to do that and don't want to jinx it by putting it in bold.

Finally, I want to be more honest with people, and by that I mean be meaner to people. So instead of holding my tongue and abiding by the 'if you don't have anything nice to say' adage, I will tell people how I really feel. There's nothing wrong with this ideology; if anything, there's something wrong with being 'fake' and doing the smile and nod. Of course, I don't really believe that. I just want to be meaner to people.

So that's that. Any suggestions/one-ups? I'm always open to additional resolutions.

2008 Retrospective

2008-12-29T00:09:00.002-05:00

Currently Listening To: The Kingdom, dir. by Peter Berg (no, I'm not really that pretentious but my brother and I were talking about the director so... suck it)
Now is typically the time for top-ten lists, but I can't find a broad enough topic to suit my needs, so I'm just going to list things, positive and negative, that relate to my general thoughts about the year

Vampire Weekend is complete and utter shite and "if I could track down every copy of that album and smash it with a Viking warhammer...", to quote a great man (i.e., me). My dad asked me if I had heard of them tonight and I immediately clenched the armrests of my chair, turned my head and inhaled. I don't know what it is about this crappy 2008-version-of-Arctic-Monkeys -- WAIT, that's it. They're this years Arctic Monkeys. It's pure yuppie chow. Not really anything exciting, but everyone loves them and loves introducing them to people.
If I read another Top 10 list describing M.I.A. as a breakout artist or Paper Planes as a new song, I will fucking snap. Arular was released four years ago, and that album got about the same initial promotion as Kala, which came out almost two years ago. Not new, people were just out of the loop. For fucks sake, she retired in the spring, before everyone (the ominous 'everyone', here meaning mainstream radio/music) was singing "I fly like paper".
Coldplay. No one says they're new, so that's not my complaint. My complaint is really just that I HEAR SO FUCKING MUCH ABOUT THEM AND DESPITE MY EFFORTS, I COULDN'T GIVE FEWER SHITS. Violet Hill is a good song. I will concede that much. But THEY ARE FUCKING EVERYWHERE AND NO ONE SHOULD BE EVERYWHERE.
The fact that all of this is just me saying "I don't know why but..." is problematic and highlights my inability to argue.
I FUCKING LOVE HULU. Thanks be to God, Jesus, Moses, Mohammed and whoever else for this magical website. I watch shit all the time on there: Family Guy clips, Simpsons episodes, movies (Go being the latest; how did I turn my nose at that the first time I watched it?)
College... I'm glad they invented that this year. I mean, I assume it's new. First time I've ever been, so it must be new.

I'll come back and add more. This ain't ten.

The Girl From Twilight

2008-11-20T01:19:00.002-05:00

Currently Listening To: Human by The Killers
So Twilight is the bee's knees these days, and now Kristen Stewart is on the cover of magazines and shit. People worship her. But my animosity for this hype machine aside, where have all these worshipers been? I had the biggest fuckin' crush on this girl when I was eleven... I saw Panic Room with my dad and brother and I was just like, "Hey... this girl is kind of cool. Wow, I have a penis," and from there, I don't even know. I kind of forgot about her... well, I straight up forgot about her, except when I watched Panic Room (which I used to do a lot), and now, everyone else is such a big fuckin' fan of this "star on the rise"... BITCHES I GOT MY FIRST CHUBBY TO THIS GIRL. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?

Let me just re-iterate that I was eleven at the time, as was she, so this was wholly kosher

No Title Necessary

2008-11-05T02:17:00.002-05:00

Currently Listening To: The ecstatic shouting in the street
There's really nothing to say that hasn't already been said, but that doesn't mean I won't say it anyway.

This was the first election I voted in. My vote may not have counted (at least according to my understanding of how they deal with absentee ballots), but at the same time I am so proud to have been a part of this. At the start, I'll admit, I was nervous as I colored in each state on my crafty-fuckin' electoral map. 3-8 wasn't looking so hot. But by the time California came in, and we were sitting in that huge crowd in the Tavern on campus... I can't articulate how I felt. To be a part of something big, not only in that I voted for the guy, but also living out a night that my kids will one day ask me about. One of those days where you never forget where you were when it happened.

From there, we went down to the White House with the hopes of finding people celebrating (we did). The METRO ride downtown was even more exhilarating than the Tavern. Shouting, climbing on the poles... it was madness and yet no one said so much as a word about "proper metro etiquette".

Down at the White House (Barack's house), it was like a concert except there were no douchebags elbowing you in the stomach. Just people revelling in what they're experiencing.

It may be childish, but I'm really hoping at least one of the photographers who stole my soul this evening is going to put that picture in a textbook in the future so my kids can have a picture of their daddy drunk'n'disorderly in our nation's capital with a fauxhawk.

We've been hearing a lot about change... unfortunately you cannot use this type of change to pay cab fare back to campus. But he let us stop at an ATM.

Finally, to address "the other team"; first off, welcome to our world circa November 2004. It's a bitch, ain't it? But the pendulum will swing back with the next election cycle or two. It happens every time. In 2006, in response to Bush's re-election, congress went Dem. In 1994, in response to Clinton's election. That's just how it goes.

And were Obama socialist (not that the majority would know it, being that they don't have a proper working understanding of it), he would never be able to get far along enough to make the country socialist. Obviously there is a significant opposition to this very abstract and loose definition of socialism and were he to (no that he would) try and do anything, "the people" would act accordingly in 2010. The pendulum has swung back and forth all throughout history and it will continue to do so.

Next, as a former "loser" to the current "losing side", let's make sure no one is being hypocritical: scratch those "support the troops and our president" stickers off your car. You obviously meant "support our Republican president". There's nothing wrong with that, because I've got the same opinion but from the other side. Just keep in mind all those times you said/thought/shouted that when you bemoan Barack's election. Also, the "I'm moving to _____" stuff needs to end. Dems who wanted to move to Canada were at least planning to move somewhere more in line with their beliefs. Most other "modern" or "Western" countries I've seen named are more in the direction of what you claim to be leaving. Instead, why not do something? Start a republican moveon.org and load up your inboxes with crap you don't want to read. Seriously, moveon, I just wanted a fucking button and instead I got no Obama button and three e-mails a day.

Tonight was definitely top ten of my life (past, present and future), and as of now stands at number one.

Okay, I smell horrible. Good night.

Post-script: Saxby Chambliss is a disgusting human being for what he did to Max Cleland. Anyone who voted for the former, a walking piece of bile, cannot in good conscience claim that McCain's status as a war hero qualified him. Cleland gave up three of his limbs and yet people still voted for Chambliss after Sax compared Max to bin Laden. An eternity in hell being sodomized by broken glass bottles is too kind a fate for Saxby.

2008-10-12T01:39:00.002-05:00

Currently Listening To: The Coolest Dog by Grand Buffet

The video pretty much speaks for itself.

The ideas expressed signify my being a maverick who will bring change, plus whatever Cynthia McKinney and Bob Barr's campaign slogans are.

To summarize for those who don't theytube, frat parties and GirlTalk concerts that were otherwise sexcellent were ruined by douchebags so we should create "things"/places that don't include them. Fuck those guys.

And Grand Buffet is SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO good! Check it!

Babylon AD Solved

2008-09-30T17:11:00.001-05:00

Babylon AD Solved
Originally uploaded by CliveDangerously.

I'm learning to use GIMP after a year of photoshop... the first of my experiments.

This was a pretty abysmal movie, but I thought of a solution to its issues: combine it with Mamma Mia.

But seriously, I paid 21 dollars to see it. That is a shame.

MY RADIO SHOW!

2008-09-26T17:31:00.001-05:00

EVERY FRIDAY!

10-MIDNIGHT!

WVAU.ORG (it's streaming... so we can count listeners...)

Tonight is our first show, and I'm only just now hyping it.

That's how I roll.

Social Experiments

2008-09-15T21:31:00.004-05:00

Currently Listening To: Reruns of LOST on SciFi
Twice today, during conversations with various people, "it" was decided that some aspect of life here at college was just some remotely orchestrated social experiment. The first is my Asian Civilizations class. It meets Mondays and Thursdays around lunch time in the basement of the building with "biology" plastered on one of the columns. In addition to witnessing the major cultures of Southeast Asia, as I student in that class I will witness the complete breakdown and ultimate destruction of the human spirit. Let me explain; our professor is a grad student. She was informed she would be replacing the original professor less than a month before class. The textbook she's teaching from is not available in the bookstore, and it doesn't look likely that it ever will be. She's dependent on student discussion, being that she's ESL and often struggles with words, yet everyone has difficulty getting the readings from the web so we've got nothing to say; Asian Civilizations? More like Awkward Cilences. Anyways, watcher her just stand there is absolutely depressing, and she looks depressed when it happens. Like I said, by the end of the semester, she will be a shell of a person.

The second is one of the many places on campus to get food. "Getting food" goes as follows: you wait in line for your meal. You order your meal. You pay for your meal. You recieve your meal. Then you wait in another line, except that it's not a line, it's an amorphous blob of students clamoring for French Fries. Then you wait some more. When they finally produce the fries, it's like the zombie hoardes, a mad dash for that precious two, three bags of fries. Could this fuster cluck be avoided? Why of course, anyone with an ounce of logic could tell you so; simply give the students their fries with their meals. So the only logical explanation is that it is an experiment devised by the Psychology department to see what lengths to which college students will go to get fries. THE ONLY EXPLANATION.

I just saw a very, very disturbing commercial. Two girls walk up to their father. They've got that "Come play with us, Danny" quality about them. One says, "It's time, dad." Oh God, a period commercial. Wait! Even better; the girl produces from behind her back a box of Rogaine; "You'd make a great catch for some lady."

I'm not even going to dissect this any further, I'll just say that it is disturbing.

Bathroom Finicky

2008-09-06T12:14:00.003-05:00

Currently Listening To: My Roommate Listening to Rush
I have a confession.

Prior to college, I was deathly afraid of public toilets. It's just not right; rubbing your ass all over the same piece of real estate as God-only-knows how many other people? It's different at home. I know exactly who uses a toilet there, and I know that they, you know, bathe. Same thing at other people's houses. But public toilets? Fuck that.

Weirdly enough, I'm also comfortable with hotel toilets, even though, well, everyone knows about hotels. You know what I'm talking about. Nightline or whatever and the blacklights. God only knows how many hookers have gotten fucked on that hotel toilet, but still, I'll drop a deuce on it. Or in it, rather. On it is just wrong.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, or rather, BACK TO DORM-SHITTING. Since arriving here at school, I've conquered my fear of public toilets. It was pretty simple. The second day I was here I realized I wasn't going to be able to hold it in until Christmas break. Probably should have anticipated that.

So the toilet itself is no longer an obstacle. I'm still, and likely will always be, uncomfortable with other people in the bathroom. Half the people on our hall are guys*, and that's like 30 or so people, I think? Anyways 30 guys, 4 toilets. Odds are one is in use if you're in there. So lots of times, I go in there, see a closed door and turn right back around. I just can't do it. I don't want to hear other people go to the bathroom, and I don't want someone else to hear me go to the bathroom. It's just not right. And it's weird, because I'm really not all that prudish otherwise, just, going to the bathroom is... sacred.

And this week. Someone desecrated one of those toilets. He dropped a Sloppy Joe grenade in that toilet. People were executed for lesser crimes at Nurmeburg than the atrocity that took place in stall two. It was so bad that the cleaning lady put a black trashbag over the commode, and the next day there was a hole in it. The only way I can concieve of me doing something like that involves being dead at the end.

I could go all day.

Just thought you'd like to know.

Also, I turn 18 in less than a month. Shit. Pedophiles will no longer find me appealing.

*In late elementary school/early middle school, there was a sitcom that took place in a co-ed dorm. I distinctly remember my parents telling me that co-ed dorms were a myth, and yet here I am. TAKE YER LIFE LESSONS AND STUFF 'EM, PARENTS.

Sunglasses

2008-08-24T01:23:00.002-05:00

Sunglasses
Originally uploaded by CliveDangerously.

Some ballin' shades I picked up in town today, at a flea market.

How is college, you might ask? Absofuckinglutely awesome. I've spent the past week riding the metro, talking to tramps 'n vagrants, pinching every penny, stealing produce from the cafeteria, eating French Fries at every meal, staying up until at least three every night and watching Arrested Development in the lounge. I am exactly where I need to be.

Of course, classes start on Monday so... This could all change. But then I've never liked school, so anything above "thinking about driving a spike through my skull" is an upgrade.

Jokes aside, I think I will like it. I've got this theory that when it comes to teens and "young adults", there are two types of people; high school people and college people, who each thrive in that respective era. High school people feel comfortable with the cliques, structure, secret parties and drama of high school, while college people feel more comfortable surrounded by like-minded people while busying themselves not sneaking around to do shit they want to and living on their own schedule with minimal parental influence (no bias on my part, of course).

I didn't enjoy high school. I've made that abundantly clear; I enjoyed (and still enjoy, at least until October, I suppose) the age, but not the school. I count myself among the college people, and would wager that most of the college people were in a similar position as mine in high school; we didn't factor into that Mean Girls hierarchy. I didn't say popular because popularity is, well, bullshit. "Popular Kids" are popular among their friends, and no one else, and the "Unpopular Kids" are popular among their friends, and no one else. Just because we as the "Unpopular Kids" and they as the "Popular Kids" didn't care about the other doesn't negate the others existence.

...Where was I going with this?

Oh. High School people don't necessarily dislike college; in fact they tend to love it. But what they love about it is nearly identical to what they had before. They still ignore the academic aspect and still think they're the fucking elite (Frats, anyone?), except now they don't live at home. They go to college with the people they went to high school with, both in the sense that they surround themselves with the same types of people (nothing wrong with that) and that they actually go to school with many of their classmates from high school (WHY? MEET SOME NEW PEOPLE YOU PLEBEIANS) .

Rambling again.

In summation, I, along with my fellow 'like-minded' people, are elite-r that the 'elites'.

Wait, what?

It's Been A Month... Sorry

2008-08-14T22:23:00.003-05:00

But holy shit, gang, I'm leaving tomorrow.

I was driving the other day and remembered last year when I posted about "Not knowing where I'd be sleeping a year from now". Haha, that shit is quaint.

But I'm leaving tomorrow.Starting Saturday night, I will be a resident of Washington, DC. And a college student. And fuck, I forgot to register for an absentee ballot. I'm going to the most politically active college campus in the nation and I'm not going to be voting? Huzzah, great planning.

But my shit is mostly packed. And at lunch tomorrow, I'm gone. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited; excited to be leaving Acworth, excited to be starting college, excited to be moving to DC. But I don't think any parting words of advice or sad goodbyes (haven't gotten any of those; rather cut off since I hit a deer with my car) could have prepared me for this.

Ryan doesn't live here any more.

Thinking back to that year-ago post, here's what's changed since then:

I began senior year... Graduated. No longer a factor.
Applying to college... Accepted, chose a school. No longer a factor.
Got my license... Wrecked my car. No longer a factor.
Got a girlfriend... We broke up.* No longer a factor.

Everything that's occupied my mind in the past year has pretty much evaporated. Sometimes i wish I was level-headed enough to remember these little pearls of wisdom.

"Everything I've had, one day,
will fall apart and fade away"
- Angelina, The Bravery

*In case you're worried, it was planned and mutual. Distance is... Well, it's not exactly a new obstacle, right? And we still talk, and write, and e-mail... So it's all good.

AP Scores

2008-07-17T18:56:00.002-05:00

Currently Listening To: Hard to Beat by Hard-Fi

The exciting conclusion to a saga for which I'm sure people were hanging off the edge of their seats. Though I will admit that my heart was racing as I pulled the letter out of the mailbox; the envelope wasn't as I remembered it so I was expecting another "We couldn't grade it, expect your scores later", or a "We're not wasting postage on your results". That would suck.

Well, the ripple effect of some childish antics from my childhood, which has long since passed (More than two months ago!), I will be forced to take a math class, but I can count a science course or two out. Probably just one. If that. I'll have to see what this means for English... SUSPENSE!

Bee Tee Dubs, is anyone watching Dr. Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog? It is an absolute nerdgasm for so many reasons and I've got it archived on my iPod for future reference.

I fucking love NPH. I'd hit that. (Sorry, Adrienne, if you had to read that... And sorry you'll have to read the letter I'm writing in which I declare my love of Daniel Bruhl.

I am a terrible boyfriend)

Important Life Lesson?

2008-07-10T11:16:00.003-05:00

Currently Listening To: Everyone's A VIP To Someone by the Go! Team
I generally consider myself to be a carefree guy; not in the sense that I frolic in fields of flowers while singing Julie Andrews songs, more so that often I just don't give a shit.

Generally, that may be the case, but now I really care. And not about the children. I care about me, and my future. No, not career options. I care about potentially not ever having to take a math class again, or potentially having to take Calculus.

Our story begins at Orientation, which I went to a few weeks ago. A lot of kids there were just talking ad nauseum about school and grades and shit. I suppose that's logical; we were at college orientation, and many/most of the kids there had just finished school. I, however, had already been out for a month, and even then I didn't enjoy talking about school. NEWS ALERT: It's boring. But all this talking usually wound up at talk about AP/IB scores and exempting classes. Now, I hadn't thought about that shit in ages, because I had long since come to the realization that AP was a waste of my time since schools are now so stingy about taking credits. But suddenly, without any real change except the prospect of taking Calc, that shit mattered.

Our story continues on July 1st, when I had a dream about AP scores. I woke up and got on the College Board website to see when they were available. Sure enough, July 1st. A reasonable person would say that my subconscious was just remembering date that was all over our AP shit back in May, but I know that it was actually a psychic experience. Because I'm great.

Anyways, they were available starting July 1st by phone, but I needed the packet with my student number on it. Hah! I threw that shit out once I finished my last test. But so now I have to wait until they mail it to me. Every day I eagerly sift through the mail looking for that envelope with the dopey acorn on it. That is the dumbest logo ever (pardon the hyperbole).

The anticipation is killing me. The first two years I really didn't care
but now, not only is there something hinging on the scores, but there's also reason to believe that I didn't do alright, and it's not the typical "I don't know what the fuck a Huegenot is!", it's "Why the fuck did I write that smartass answer?" and that applies to all four of my exams, not just one. Let's review:

Statistics: The experiment the man should try out is "Go get a girlfriend"
English: A lengthy essay on how Nermal serves as a foil to the protagonist in Jim Davis' classic saga "Garfield"
Environmental: Something about a kerosene lake in Portugal
Spanish: My last essay was just a picture of a bus labelled "Spanish" running me over with various Spanish literary figures on board

Spanish only warranted a picture (which all the others got in addition to the text) because it was less than 24 hours before graduation. I'd say that were it the English one that mattered most, it would be worth suffering through a class for it, because I was really proud of the Nermal/Garfield thing. Not only was it smartassery of the first degree, it answered the question. But it's math, and that one was almost as lame as the kerosene lake. Funny, yes, but unremarkable.

Anyways, I done fucked myself over and will continue stressing until that letter comes. And yes, there's no sense worrying because it's pretty much set in stone now, but when have I ever learned any sort of life lesson?

Fourth of July

2008-07-05T16:38:00.003-05:00

Currently Listening To: One Pure Thought by Hot Chip

For some reason, I always seem to end up ranting about holidays for one reason or another; Independence Day is no exception.

In short, I have a problem with this holiday. And no, it has nothing to do with my attitudes toward patriotism, or the State of the Union or what have you; I just don't like how we celebrate.

Fireworks are

Not an American invention, nor are they strongly associated with America. Everyone shoots off fireworks.
Fucking boring. You get like five colors and five "designs" or whatever. Thirty to forty-five minutes of alternating colors and styles? I'll pass.
Not even exclusive to this particular holiday! Fireworks are also a New Years thing, in case you were completely oblivious.

I was fascinated by this shit when I was in elementary school. Yet everyone else is completely snowed by the flashing lights and loud noises. This means, of course, that I am superior to 'everyone else', particularly when it comes to brain function. I AM BETTER THAN YOU.

Well, no. I'm just not interested. Find something to liven up the shindig or kick to to the curb!!

Well, no. I love America. I just don't like fireworks.

What's HAPPENING? Marky Mark and the Killer Trees

2008-06-16T07:58:00.002-05:00

Perhaps I went against my word and saw it so I could make the "What's Happenin'?" pun. Fred Berry's rolling in his grave.

Worst

2008-05-29T21:32:00.002-05:00

Currently Watching: LOST Finale
M. Night Shamaylan makes mystery movies, and the eventual movie chronicling his life will also contain a large mystery: why people keep allowing him to make movies. I've been hearing a lot about The Happening in these past few weeks. When they showed the trailer before Iron Man, I heard a lot of laughter. The line "There appears to be an event happening" comes to mind. Mr. M Night, have you ever had a conversation with someone before? Watched the news? Hear someone speak? No one talks like that, not even at a press conference, like the one being depicted in the scene. "There is an event happening"? We get it; your movies are hinged on a big ol' secret we can't know about until we see it. But surely there is a better way of enticing us than with a bit of dialog George Lucas would find laughable.

The plot point The Happening is hinged upon is what has caused THE HAPPENING. What has caused these people to commit suicide. That's why people will go to see it; the suspense is killing them. Well, friends? I'm about to save you some time and money, because I know what that twist is:

Disappointment.

What the twist actually is, be it terrorists or aliens or ghosts or Amish monsters or Mermaids or supervillains with glass bones, it will disappoint people on a cosmic scale. It will leave people speechless, then immobile and finally suicidal over just how big a letdown it is, because the two-hours building up, no matter how engaging the plot or amazing the special effects or whatever (not that you'll actually find either), will never be sufficiently fulfilled by the reveal. Every time one of this guy's movies comes out, people are exponentially less satisfied with his twists. Granted, no one will ever be emotionally numb to this endings, as it can never reach zero, but still, there will come a time, when his last movie is released, that the lone audience member will somehow convey less emotion than "Eh."

M. Night Shamanotgonnaworkhereanymore, I'll see you in hell.

Sunscreen

2008-05-20T13:25:00.005-05:00

Currently Listening To: Time On Your Side by Emily Jane White
Location: My bed
That's right; I am typing this from my bed. My parents got me a laptop for graduation. That's right, I graduated. In fact, I graduated three days and four-ish hours ago. It took me three days and four hours to start a graduation post. My freshman year, I would have been typing as I walked across the stage. I guess that's just one of the many ways I've changed since I started this blog and high school four years ago.

I would be lying if I saide these four years went by fast; there were times I thought I would be stuck, a la Groundhog Day, in a loop of high school until I went insane. I had my fair share of low points, both events around me and mistakes I've made. Then again, there have been good experiences. That's what high school is, and that's what life is. Good and bad times; the good to tell you what to do and give you something to hold on to, and the bad to tell you how not to do it and give you motivation to do it better next time. It's that good-and-bad dichotomy that make up who you are, and hopefully, make you a better person once it is all said and done. Freshman year and a good bit of sophomore year I was pretty much a piece of shit, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. I was just worthless. I did nothing. Wasted it. Worse yet, I tried to act like it was somehow connected to the external bad shit going down around me. And then there was the whole Chad ordeal.That definitely goes under the 'things I'd like to put behind me' category. I still can't believe Clint gave him that password! But spring of freshman year, aside from Chad, stands out as me not being slime. That was when we saw House of Wax, highlight of the year, if only because every time that story is retold, Starla bumps my age down by a year. Last I hear, Claire pushed me into the theater in a stroller.

Sophomore year, I suppose, served to show me exactly what the word 'sophomoric' meant. We fucked around a lot. Productivity was at an all time low. Countless hours spent doing nothing in either Spanish/Chemistry class, or not buying things in Barnes and Nobles. Though I get involved with drama that year, which on the whole, is definitely a highlight of high school for me.

Junior year? Oh fuck. First, physics class was a huge learning experience, and I'm not talking about shit like trajectories and electromagnetism and whatnot. It taught me how to take failure in stride, and I suppose study skills to a minor extent. And English produced ample entertainment with our replacement teacher, Dr. Durlin. "Massa Kurtz, he DEAD." Outside of class, I finally figured out who my friends were (my two gangs: the Stack, the Big Three... FOR LIFE), as well as one douchebag who wasn't. Fuck that kid. I mean, I hate to be bitter, but fuck him. We didn't need him after all, and he apparently didn't need us. I began my love affair with a man named Stephen King. And then there was the, er, saga, I suppose, that will forever haunt me. I can only pray that I never treat someone as as much of a human doormat as I did her. Note to self: a simple no would have been satisfactory. I don't doubt you're reading this; I know we already talked about it but I'm still sorry. How're things?

Senior year is how I hope to remember high school. Aside from the rough first month-and-a-half, I succeeded in getting my license, becoming Homecoming King, getting into a school I am thrilled to be going to next year AND finally getting a girlfriend. I am doing pretty well. I befriended some interesting new/old people at school and spent nearly every weekend at the movies, going on as many as six duplicate viewings. THREE CLOVERFIELDS. Holy shit. As far as lessons learned, I think my several-month-procrastination on going out with Adrienne tops the list. While procrastination is a theme that runs throughout my life, the fact that I delayed happiness for so long, rather than the typical delay of work and subsequent happiness, shows just how inept I am.

Loved some of it, hated the rest. High school. Xangas,zombie movies, Barnes & Nobles, Vitamin Water, prom, Stephen King, indie bullshit, graphic design, ratty old Hondas. I'd say it went pretty well, all things considered.

I think I've got one high school post left in me, and then I will close that chapter of my life/blog.

And so it is now that I'm announcing my plans to delete every previous post and devote my blog to my love of the ever-talented Jonas Brothers.

fire!

2008-05-15T15:58:00.001-05:00

fire!
Originally uploaded by CliveDangerously.

I had a minor altercation with a QuickTrip employee yesterday, but we, er, 'worked things out'.
You see, after the 'got-no-gas' incident last year, my mom gave me her Amex so I could fill up when I was out of gas, rather than waiting until I was out of gas and with her, which was pretty much never. And with gas prices going up, she suggested I start going to QT, which tends to be cheaper. That's smart. And QT has breakfast, which is nice in the mornings, the time of day people tend to eat breakfast. Except the other day, I tried to charge my eats to the card and the woman behind the counter looked at the card, and she looked at me, and she incredulously asked, "Ellen?"
Being that I wasn't, you know, doing anything wrong, I explained that Ellen is my mom, and I'm using her card. A swift rebuttal follows: "Honey, you can't use her card. Blah blah blah, something something." She didn't actually say "Blah blah blah, something something," I just didn't really care enough about what she was saying to remember it.

Really, the incident isn't too significant, except I was fucking ornery that morning, and by calling me 'honey' (I am almost 18 for fuck's sake!) and inconveniencing my grazing (because I am almost morbidly obese for fuck's sake!), it really pissed me off. And my allergies cause my eyes to be watering all the time, and I was worried she though I was crying over a chicken biscuit. Which I wasn't. I swear.

Big Announcment

2008-05-10T16:01:00.001-05:00

trent
Originally uploaded by CliveDangerously.

Trent Reznor made a big ol' announcement this week. This was the postcard he sent his fans.

So yesterday was my last day of school, except it was just graduation rehearsal, so I suppose Thursday was my last day of school, except that was just my AP English exam, because our pissed-off administration canceled school because some kids tagged the Cove with "Class of 08 we're f'n great". I would have preferred a full "fuckin' great", but I'll settle. So Wednesday was the last day. High School is dunzo. I graduate on the 17th, and then in late August I ship off to DC for college.

I love my family dearly, but at this moment, I don't feel sad at all to be leaving. I'll be back, you know? Christmas, summer, etc.?

Senior year, however, I will not miss. Senior privileges were meager (at best), and most attempts at senior shenanigans were sabotaged. Sure, a small group of us resurrected Water Day as Water Night and made several underclassmen cry, but other than that? Not much to write home about. The fact that it wasn't our laziness so much as the actions of the administration makes me glad to be leaving. Everything is changing for the sake of change and being the Stepford School. Fuck high school. I'm above this shit.

I saw Baby Mama last night with Bob and one of his friends (Bob is back!) They were quite drunk. It sucked because Bob kept shouting and his friend kept hitting me every time something funny happened. But I enjoyed the movie aside from that.

And then, while driving out (past curfew... scandalous), we saw something... AMAZING. I picked it up, and it is now here in the basement awaiting a picture to immortalize its presence in the house. I'll get that up later.

What Is In My CD Player Right Now?

2008-04-30T18:03:00.001-05:00

cd-cover
Originally uploaded by CliveDangerously.

What's Going On In Your Life?

2008-04-28T21:29:00.002-05:00

Currently Watching: The Ten
Well, okay, I was really only asking so that I could inversely tell you how I am doing.

First, I've just finished the play. It sucked up all my time during those last few weeks, leaving me bitchy and tired all the time. Driving home after midnight isn't so fun when it's raining really hard and you're sleepy.

One time I fell asleep while driving and was like an inch away from t-boning this flower van. Comical, to be sure.

So yeah, the play left me whiny and disgruntled. Which really wasn't much of a change I guess... But that big ol' time suck left me very little time for...

My girlfriend.

Yes, you read that correctly. The little nerd you've been following intently like your favorite VH1 reality show for the past four years has a real girlfriend. And she has a name. It is Adrienne.

That is her. If you're feeling excessively voyeuristic, you can check out all the fun pictures on flickr

Names

2008-04-17T20:59:00.003-05:00

Currently Listening To: I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You by Black Kids
Both of my parents, when signing e-mails, simply put their respective first initial.

When did my house become MI6?

I guess I'll be 002, since I'm il secondo.

Yes, I ~~speak Italian~~ have access to google translator.

My Special Place

2008-04-16T20:35:00.003-05:00

Currently Listening To: Waiting by Shiny Toy Guns
Last week in assembly, a girl I haven't spoken to in the three years she's gone to our school of less-than-500 students gave a speech about all the shit that's gone down in her life (serious shit), and that our school has made her feel confident and what not. So, a brief recap of that briefness: her special place is school because it makes her feel safe.

Now, what about my special place?

Oh, I've got a great one. But it's not a place that makes me feel safe. Quite the opposite, in fact. My special place is the way I've recently started driving home from school. Basically, you go the same way as usual, but halfway down the highway you take a right straight into the bowels of hell. You pass by various ranch houses on large lots, followed by THE COMPOUND. What the fuck is THE COMPOUND, you may be asking? THE COMPOUND is this seriously sketchy grouping of houses and American-made cars on blocks surrounded by a sloppily-put-up retaining wall fence with some cryptic message I don't care to remember spray painted on the side. Who lives in THE COMPOUND? Trustworthy sources (some kid I talked to in middle school) claim Neo-Nazis, though a charismatic cult, Communists or the KKK are not out of the question.

Needless to say, driving by is uncomfortable. Breaking down on the side of the road is bad. Breaking down within half a mile of THE COMPOUND is bullet-in-the-brainpan worthy. Imagine House of Wax, Texas Chainsaw and Wrong Turn rolled into a thin flour tortilla and grilled to perfection.

After THE COMPOUND, there is the little town of Macedonia. I'll be damned if the name of every town in Georgia wasn't taken from my Ancient World History book from Freshman year. Macedonia, of course, is where my radio is hijacked from the audio-orgasm that is SIRIUS 26 Left of Center and switches to some rinky-dink station coming from someone's basement, which plays various essays and rants about the New World Order and how uncivilized people in Africa are (I shit you not... and this isn't THE COMPOUND). This happens a lot, of course; the frequency I listen to SIRIUS on is pretty popular for people's car-iPod things, so I'm frequently subjected to other people's crappy music. That's what I get for using a (paradoxically) Vacant Frequency (which is the name I plan to use for my Dan Brown/Robert Ludlum novel).

Following Fred Phelps Radio is the power plant, which was deemed one of the ten worst in the country (though I'm inclined to say it was #1 on the list). I don't know what to say about it other than that I close the vents on my car when I'm in sight of it.

From here on out, there's a lot of unremarkable minutia. Rinky-dink airport. Windy roads. Broken roads. One-lane bridge. I like to blast M.I.A.'s Kala and pretend I'm driving in the jungle of a third-world country. It helps that my car is a beat up, outdated Honda SUV. Third-world, to be sure. My life is like the ghetto. I grew up on the streets.

What's most exhilarating is that (SHH!) I'm not supposed to drive that way. Not because of the possible cannibals, bigot radio or power plant. It's the one lane bridge. Dad, I love you and how you always look out for me.

Fantastic

2008-04-15T23:15:00.001-05:00

Currently Listening To: Great DJ by the Ting Tings
"Either way, all the talk about dead people milling about has given me my idea for a zombie flick. It's called Zombie of the Zombies. The protagonist is a young man that happens to be a zombie. He wakes up one day (hungry for flesh and feeling a bit rigor-mortis-y, naturally) and notices that some of the zombies around him have started turning...zombier. This obviously freaks his 5-cell mind out. He's panicked, in a constant state of terror (and hunger). He couldn't stand (or comprehend) the thought of his zombie girlfriend and their adopted zombie children turning zombier, as he would then have to kill them. He does everything he can think of - namely, killing and eating the few remaining humans left and walking around a lot - to prevent this from happening. Hey, at least he's trying something. In the end, he makes a valiant effort to stop the zombiers from getting his clan, and succeeds in saving their zombie lives, only to be turned zombier himself."
- Blog Cabins

Drugs

2008-04-13T21:21:00.002-05:00

Currently Watching: Reno 911! Miami
Has it really been a month? A month since I last made you laugh, made you cry, made you love again?

I really am great.

I'm here today to talk about drugs. First off, to clear up any sort of misconceptions about me and my non-drug addiction. As in, I ain't no drug addict. Normally I wouldn't need to say something like that, but I was recently accused of being such. For you see, once again, ALLERGIES. Damn those guys. Allergies require medication, because this is America, and if you're uncomfortable, you medicate that shit. Well, last time I was struggling with allergies, my mom gave me a magical little pill that made me feel like I was walking on air, and driving on air and sleeping on air and being on air. I could fall asleep and awaken without any effort, and nothing could hurt me. So after my recent allergy uprising, I tried desperately to find that pill again at the nurse's station at school, to no avail. It ain't Claritin. And so I told some fellow students about this during environmental, at which point, TADA, "Ryan, you're a drug addict."

NO.

If I were a drug addict, would I be able to do a hand stand? NO. Never mind the fact that I can't do a hand stand. But my inability to do a handstand and a crackhead's identical inability do not, by the transitive property, spell Ryan=crackhead. That would be a logical fallacy. Fucko.

My perma-bloodshot eyes (a result of allergies and eye-rubbing) don't help the drug-addict image.

Have I learned nothing from all those PSAs about stealing your parents' medicine?

Prom/the play: less than two weeks... At which point I should have a lengthy complaint. I promise. But I'm actually looking forward to prom (HINT HINT).

Cool Things

2008-03-14T22:40:00.002-05:00

Currently Watching: Aqua Teen Hunger Force

Doomsday--How can I describe this movie? Truth is, I can't.

But I'll try: You know how on a roller coaster, your stomach drops? It was like that, except it was my balls and they were going up instead of down, and instead of the gentle 'drop', 'twas a launch. All the zombie-madman carnage straight up took me boys in its hand and shot them straight up. The wanton violence and gore took my projectile testicles and removed them from orbit, then proceeding to yank out my eyes, so as to prevent me from trying to see something that incredible ever again, and replacing them wit me boys. Finally, the car chase ripped my new 'eyes' out, lit them on fire and put them back from whence they originally came, before forcibly taking one of my limbs from its socket and sodomizing me with it.

Forgive the hyperbole, but BEST MOVIE EVER.

Back to cool things:

Weather--As we left the theater, the calm weather was disrupted by a bolt of lightning, immediately after which shit fell out. I mean, seriously: no transition from dry to drizzle to damp; one second it was dry and with no warning but the bolt of lightning, it was monsoon weather. And lightning continued throughout. It was, well, a cool thing.
This e-mail from my Government teacher: You have outdone yourself this time. Not only was your exam the funniest thing I have read in a long time (I fell off the couch laughing) and your essay excellent, but you also just blew the curve for your classmates. Nothing like an ego boost.
The other two exams I got A's on, as well as the one I got a B on. The last two exams? Let me tell you where they can shove it.
Becoming a famous TV star on Sunday at 7 a.m., when my episode of High Q comes on. WATCH IT!
Going to bed!!1!

Lovely Ladies

2008-03-12T19:40:00.003-05:00

Currently Listening To: Blackout by Muse
So I'm watching last night's Colbert Report; he was showing a montage mourning the death of conservative McCain-bashing, and I saw a shot of McCain's wife. His hot wife. Then I thought of a soundbyte I dropped in Government class, to the effect of: "George W. Bush and I have two things in common: we're white males and we think Laura Bush is really hot."

Then i thought of the best idea ever: First Ladies' Calendar. We'd have them all: Laura Bush, McCain's arm candy, Michelle Obama, Dirty Denny Kucinich's model/giant (because he is a goblin), Maria Schriver, Gov. Spritzer's loyal lady, Bill Clinton... All the greats. I'm sure Georgia governor Sonny Perude has a hot wife; throw her ol' bones in there too.

Don't get hung up on the 'First Ladies' thing; sure, Sras. McCain, Obama, Kucinich, etc., aren't First Ladies yet/won't ever be (Sorry Sra. Kucinich), but people will get the point.

And don't say I'm the only one who would buy it, because that's bullshit and you know it; you'd get one for your office and one for your den.

And Doomsday, aside from looking awesome, has a banging song in the trailer, as well as a banging trailer and a banging lead.

Ooh, Laura Bush... You've helped me out of countless lonely nights. Where's that copy of Newsweek?

Alphabeat--Fascination

2008-03-11T15:48:00.001-05:00

So this is my favorite video ever. I showed it to Adrienne, and she said it was gay. It is not gay. It is awesome.

I am currently at school. Had I not auditioned for the play, I would be at home, because it is exam week, and I was done at 9 a.m. today. Instead, I must wait until 4:30. That is a bigger gap than the gap in my awake time I have every day, you know, sleep. I really should have slept. Instead, I spent countless hours in the pub at school, just kind of tooling around, graphically designing and watching the Daily Show on their website.

I am pathetic.

Music Man Poster Description Page

2008-03-11T14:47:00.007-05:00

Music Man Poster Description Page
Originally uploaded by CliveDangerously.

For our exam, we have to make a folder with all of our projects and description pages for them. This one was for my Music Man poster, which is so unremarkable I shall not post it.

Comic Strip Description Page

2008-03-11T14:47:00.005-05:00

Comic Strip Description Page
Originally uploaded by CliveDangerously.

For our exam, we have to make a folder with all of our projects and description pages for them. This one is for my comic strip. It had Fidel Castro (I made it before he stepped down, that bastard joke-killer) going into... Space.

Coke Logo Description Page

2008-03-11T14:47:00.003-05:00

Coke Logo Description Page
Originally uploaded by CliveDangerously.

For our exam, we have to make a folder with all of our projects and description pages for them. This one is for the logo we had to design for some CocaCola jet-thing. MEH.

Google Logos Description Page

2008-03-11T14:47:00.001-05:00

Google Logos Description Page
Originally uploaded by CliveDangerously.

For our exam, we have to make a folder with all of our projects and description pages for them. This was for my google logos (http://www.flickr.com/photos/48274860@N00/2298423956/). The other two were just okay.

Amputee Cowboy Description Page

2008-03-11T14:46:00.001-05:00

Amputee Cowboy Description Page
Originally uploaded by CliveDangerously.

For our exam, we have to make a folder with all of our projects and description pages for them. This one was for my Hanukkah card, which featured an amputee cowboy wishing his goyems a prosperous festival of lights.

Google Logo

2008-02-28T21:20:00.001-05:00

Google Logo
Originally uploaded by CliveDangerously.

From a recent project in my graphic design class; we had to design (for a contest) a logo for google depicting a what-if scenario...

...This was mine.

I'm not a bad person. I swear. And the booze not looking too accurate may have to do with my non-drinking... I've actually never seen vodka outside of a bottle, nor have I ever seen a martini 'in the flesh'.

Feelin' Like Dying

2008-02-24T21:40:00.002-05:00

Currently Listening To:
Not so much in the emo, hate-my-life sense so much as the might-die-at-some-point-during-the-night-but-at-least-then-I-won't-be-in-so-much-pain kind. First, I'm sick. I think I've got a cold, or something. Maybe tuberculosis. My lungs hurt a lot. That's generally bad.

WAIT, WHY THE FUCK DOES MICHAEL BAY GET TO VOTE ON BEST PICTURE? GAH, FUCK THAT.

Anyways, sick. Oscars. Atonement got fucked twice since I started watching two categories ago. I didn't see Michael Clayton, but I for-real think that No Country for Old Men is vastly overrated. What the hell were they talking about? I mean seriously, what were they getting at? Yeah, Bardem was scary as hell, but at the end of the day (er, movie), you're left quite unfulfilled. Two hours and you end up nowhere. Atonement actually had some character point-A-to-B action that wasn't 'defeat'.

I suppose the Atonement poster hanging next to my TV would be a good indicator of my bias.

And I think the only reason Enchanted is the main event for best song is because Disney and ABC are pretty much the same entity.

Anyways, sick. Death. Feel like death.

KILL ME NOW.

In other news:

Finished a twelve page (that ended up being less than twelve, but Claire did the same so maybe we'll be spared?)
Visited Sewanee. For a multitude of reasons, I'm for-sure going there next year. The lack of cellphone reception is a plus. I fucking hate cellphones.
Got in the Spring play, which will be my last at the Dar. Daniel got in as well, but Dane didn't, which is a shame, because we really wanted a nice farewell for the Big Three, but it's so different than the drama program was sophomore and junior years that I guess it was doomed to be different; it looks like we'll be practicing five (or more) days a week instead of the standard four, as well as going considerably longer than in the past. Don't get me wrong, I like our director, it's just that it's different. To quote some asshole who doesn't even warrant credit because of how worn out this cliche is, "The only thing that is constant is change"
I'm applying for a summer job. I'm going to try to stay low key about it so as to not jinx it, which shows just how mature I am.
I rented disc one of Dexter yesterday. It was so good, and definitely worth the two dollars I paid for it, except the fact that BLOCKBUSTER ONLINE MOVIES ARE SUPPOSED TO BE REDEEMABLE FOR A FREE IN-STORE RENTAL. That means that when I take in a movie and exchange it for disc one of Dexter, I should Dexter for free. Because that was the agreement when we signed up. That's why we signed up. It was the one advantage over Netflix. But now that there's a finite number. Pure shenanigans. Let's review: my dad opted for Blockbuster Online because we could trade the envelopes at our Blockbuster for a free rental, a service Netflix did not 9and still diesn't) provide. Now, Blockbuster has reneged on that service. So, the services offered by Blockbuster and those provided by Netflix are...

I'll let you do the rest.

And those links are to previous posts where I ripped on Blockbuster, or just it into my Blockbuster saga. There is, of course, more, if you search 'Blockbuster' in the search bar up top. Try it. It'll be fun.

Movie Rants

2008-02-17T01:32:00.002-05:00

Currently Listening To: Nicotine and Gravy by Beck
Went to the theater tonight with pa. Out of the eight times I've been to a movie so far this year, it was only the second with him, which is the opposite of how it usually is. Driving has pretty much cut off whatever sort of relationship I had with my parents aside from college/school talk and me hitting them up for cash. And the "Why didn't you call? We thought you were dead in a ditch" convos.

CineBitch has devolved quickly into my awkward relationships with my parents, and how I pretty much am unable to, you know, connect with them at all.

Anyways, back to CineBitch:

First was the parking dilemma. It wasn't much of a dilemma at first; I saw a spot in the packed lot, pulled in, pulled out, pulled back in again... You get the drill. We were late, so I wasn't exactly careful (though most of the time I just park without any sort of regard for white lines). Anyways, we get out of the car and walk toward the theater. Just before I round the corner, a gaggle of cops I hadn't noticed sarcastically comment to my dad about my parking job. I sarcastically waved back in appreciation and kept walking. But the thing is, nothing's ever that simple for my dad. I kept walking and he didn't. Now, normally, I would have been embarrassed and told him to just scrape the cheese off the burger or whatever. He's a bit of a customer service nightmare. But this time I didn't mind, mostly because my driving skills had been cast into doubt by the authorities, something which hadn't occurred since I failed the driving test. After a bit of a squawk (in which plot twist it was revealed that I was 100% in between the lines), my dad moved the car to another, now-vacant spot. While walking back, he observed these cops watch someone else pull into our old spot and remark about how it was a tight squeeze and everyone was trying it tonight.

DIIIIIIICKS. Seriously. They're paid to keep the peace (which, when they're at the theater, means the pay is coming out of the higher ticket prices), and all they can do is stand in a group at side of the theater where nothing remotely suspicious is going on, then mother guard a small parking spot? Again, DIIIIIIICKS.

Next, why the hell do we need rent-a-cops at the theater? You might say, "Oh, redneck goth kids are troublemakers". You'd be wrong. They loiter, but that's it. You want to know the verifiable conspiracy at play? The theater owners only get the guards when a movie aimed at a black audience opens. Seriously. All the Tyler Perry movies. Stomp the Yard. Big Momma's House 2. What have you. And I'll be damned if there's ever an actual incident. Again, you might say, "But the kids are on their best behavior because the cops are there!" Wrong again. May I point you again to the rent-a-cops huddled by the side door judging parking maneuvers?
Finally, how come so many of the movies I've seen this year didn't have endings? Both Cloverfield (x3, one for each time I saw it) and No Country for Old Men left me hanging, meaning that p=.5 when it comes to movies I saw this year not being finished.

The good of today's good/bad? My 90's CDs arrived today: Midnite Vultures by Beck, Presidents of the United State's self-titled album, Offspring's Americana (which Robert bought when he was in like 3rd grade, but the disc has since gone missing), Bush's Science of Things and Spacehog's Resident Alien. I'm still waiting on Beck's Mutations, though. It's all good.

Other than that, I've just been hanging out lately. Learning lots of new things about learning about life. Such as:

If, in K-Mart, you hear "Code 19 in furnitures", it means that some kids are doing the Lord's Prayer in round at a patio table.
A scarf and bug eyed sunglasses on a cherub face such as mine are effective in convincing various people that I'm a hot, hot lady. Seriously. Those dudes were totally checking me out at the red light near the hospital.
I would rather stick my hand into a beehive for 45 minutes than go to a select few of my classes at school. Those classes are also the ones with juniors/non-seniors in them. Coincidence? I think not. Non-seniors ask inane questions and need everything explained multiple times in progressively simpler words. I have grown to loathe many of the juniors in my classes.
A school wide drug test would cost the school upward of $30k, thus dispelling the rumor that paralyzed our school with fear last week, and which may have started with me (though I honestly wasn't trying to start shit... honest)

Now, bed.

STORY TIME!

2008-02-11T13:55:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Odelay (the album) by Beck
Once upon a time, there was young man. This young man had many lucrative career opportunities as a result of his chosen major during his college days. He was in a relationship with a girl who loved him very much, and he loved her too. He lived in an apartment that was reasonably priced, quite spacious and in a great location. He had a very healthy relationship with all members of his family.

The end.

I should become a novelist, what with my gripping story lines?

I love Odelay. It is probably my favorite thing right about now. Things that aren't my favorite include Pad Thai, going back to school tomorrow and Pad Thai in my tummy. Pad Thai is the worst fucking decision I made yesterday. I can only pray that death comes quickly, in the same way that, at least according to the Pet Shop Boys, love comes.

Not Impressed

2008-02-03T20:26:00.000-05:00

Currently Watching: Commercials (with men running into each other for thirty seconds every once in a while)
Super Bowl commercials.

Ah.

Some are good, some are great, some just completely fall flat.

And some are astonishingly... "Huh?"

Case in point: Tonight's Under Armor commercial. All I can remember (which is also bad) is at the end, a guy on a balcony was bellowing at a large crowd below, fists shaking in the air, while large red banners with the Under Armor logo flew in the background. Listen, ad execs, your cinema professor in college may have rubbed it off to Triumph of the Will, but most Americans aren't out to appreciate cinematography and whatnot. They see Nazi imagery and think Nazis, and nothing else.

Truly.

And I saw a girl at school on Friday (on our first casual day of the year) wearing a shirt that said "Frankie says relax". Hey, kids, I've got bad news. It's a counterfeit. Frankie say relax, not says. Take it back to Target, or even worse, Urban Outfitters (because if you got it there, you paid like twenty bucks more than at Target and it's still fake).

The Amazing Adventures of Me This Past Weekend

2008-01-28T22:13:00.001-05:00

Currently Listening To: Tick Tick Boom by the Hives
So this weekend was interesting.

Scratch that. "It was interesting" is wrong. "Of interest" would be better, because "It was interesting" makes it sound like something bad happened.

Maybe if I stopped trying to describe it through vagueries and instead actually said what happened?

Okay. Friday night. Dane, this guy, that guy, those guys and those girls go to see Cloverfield. For those of you keeping score, that's my third time seeing that movie in theaters, and my fifth movie of 2008. Off to a healthy start. Anyways, it's amazing. We go to Sonic afterwards and I accost many a Sonic employee about how great Cloverfield is, stand on the tables whilst shouting Cloverfield repeatedly and running around while shouting Cloverfield, also repeatedly.

I tend to embarrass my friends a fair bit when we go out.

I guess that's not terribly interesting. What is interesting, you ask? Adrienne, Jenn and I were hiding from Dane (I am a senior and still play a nice game of hide and seek). This was later on Friday night, about 10:30. Adrienne and Jenn run into the girls bathroom. I follow them (a decision I was later asked to defend by a certain school administrator... He told me to not go in the girls' bathroom any more). So we're standing there in the dark in this bathroom at school at almost-eleven on a Friday night. We stand there, in said bathroom, for a few minutes. Hey, maybe a little light action? Sure, lights on. Hey, why not go into the stalls? Sure, back into the stalls--HEY, what are neatly folded jeans doing on the ground at the back wall? Hey, let's get out of here--OH SHIT is that a person in there? Yes, that is a person; a guy, completely naked in curled up in a ball on the toilet in the girls' room.

Naturally, we left. I mean, I don't know why he was sitting there curled up in a ball naked in the dark in the girls room, but at the time, I was less worried about the (I'm sure) fascinating story behind that and more concerned about being raped with a gun. So we left, but waited around outside to see who it was. We ran when the door actually opened, and Dane claims to have seen two fully clothed people walk out, but that doesn't change the fact that we saw one naked one in there.

My theories?

It was a body snatcher, who proceeded to kill Dane and take over his identity, hence why Dane was so adamant about what he saw.
It was a Terminator, which explains the nudity. It 'landed' in the girls' room, killing the girl crying her eyes out inside. The Terminator tried to put on her clothes as a disguise, but they didn't fit, so he folded them neatly and waited for someone else to come. If he's the Robert Patrick/T2 type, he possibly could have, again, killed Dane and taken his place.
It was some child who just had a horrible and traumatizing experience and just needed someone to talk to, and we're horrible people for leaving him in there. And he killed Dane and took his identity.

Don't ask me why, but I think something happened to Dane up there. I mean, there was a considerable gap in time between us leaving and him meeting up with us.

Please note that that story, save for the aliens/robots/murder, is 100% true.

Seriously.

I also saw Atonement last night with Claire, which was AMAZING, as well as my sixth movie this calendar year. Go see that movie NOW.

Astonishing!

Whiners, Diners, Shriners

2008-01-22T20:03:00.000-05:00

Currently Watching: The Daily Show
Some people have a lot of nerve. Actually, most people have lots of nerves. Apparently, we're born with them! Surprise, surprise. But some people have even more nerve. So much so, that they don't do schoolwork. Well, often times, neither do I. But these people always have some excuse up their sleeves. Oh, I had such and such commitment.

Er... That vague-ery seems to have been so vague that I now have no other ones. I mean, "commitments" are really their only excuses, but they've got wide ranges.

And I'm sick of it.

I mean, do you homework, or don't. I don't want to hear about you doing this or you doing that. If I do my homework, I get a good grade. If I don't, I'm fucked. Sure, I feel pissed off when I don't have it, but I won't put up a fight. These kids? They'll whine all class long. Listen, I know we've all got our shit. Some more than others. But you signed up for that shit, knowing the shit would shit all over your other shit. So drop that shit, cause I'm tired of your... shit.

Shit.

I really want to go back to that diner we went to after the Hot Hot Heat/Louis XIV concert. I had a Greek omelet, and it was amazing. I would do anything for another.

Well, not anything. But I'd really like one.

Sorry, no Shriners.

Dream Journal Part Infinity

2008-01-13T19:23:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: You Owe Me An IOU by Hot Hot Heat
So I had another bizarro dream last night.

One of my teachers came to live at my house. It was fine, because she happens to be a likable, human-ish teacher (if that is even possible). But then one day, we're sitting at the dinner table, and she suddenly puts some lines of coke on the table. But the coke isn't white; it's that almost-black shade of gray, so it looks like gunpowder. In fact, it might have been gun powder. And she didn't seem to mind, nor did my dream brother, who looked nothing like anyone in our family and was my age. And we lived in an apartment. In fact, it was the apartment my brother took me to when I visited him at school. So I guess you could say we were living in a flop house.

That's pretty much it.

I've had dreams in the past, too. Read about them. I promise you might not be disappointed.

Hey, I saw a concert on Friday. Louis XIV, Hot Hot Heat, and Editors. SWEET. We were front row (general admission+getting there early=YES!), so I pretty much was closer to Steve Bays and Tom Smith than I am to my math teacher on a daily basis.

And my dream of seeing Juno was dashed yet again. Adrienne and I left school early on Thursday and drove 30 (thirty) (!) minutes to go see it at the nearest theater at the 3:15 showing. The 3:15 showing that was listed on their website. As in, the theater's website. Let me say that another time. The theater's website said 3:15 PM on Thursday. We get there. At 3:15. The doors are locked. Excuse me? We knock on the glass. After a while, a theater employee shows up and... Long story short, they don't show movies before four on school days. So... They're showing it at four, right? WRONG. In two hours, so we can't go. Bitches.

And in other news, I'm watching the Terminator show on FOX right now, and they've got a commercial for the movie 10000BC. That's funny; I didn't think the good people at FOX believed the earth was that old.

Can We Get This Straight?

2008-01-08T20:50:00.000-05:00

Currently Watching: South Park
I DO NOT RUN ON DUNKIN'.

The commercial says, "America runs on Dunkin' Donuts." No. Wrong. Do you know who eats donuts? Fat people. But not me. So, fat people, excluding me. Anyways. Donuts. Fat people. Ever see a fat person run? No. They can't. And they've got a stick figure on their little logo. Seriously? Fat people eat donuts, and conversely, donuts make you fat. Instead, they should have a big bubble figure waddling while reaching (and NOT GETTING, because fat people have been statistically shown to never reach their dreams) for a donut.

AND THAT IS NOT THE PROPER SPELLING. IT IS DOUGHNUT. I don't care what you say about dictionary this, widely-accepted that. It's doughnut. It's through, not thru. Night, not nite.

And you know what's worse? Futurama, probably my favorite show except for Heroes and Big Love and South Park and the Simpsons, is now on Comedy Central. This should be great, right? RIGHT? They're known for playing the same ten episodes of funny syndicated shows ad nauseum, which is great. Unfortunately, it isn't funny any more.

I can't explain why. I don't know what's the reason. It's the same episodes (though apparently there are new episodes), but it just isn't funny any more.

Fuck you, Comedy Central.

I told Dane, and he asked an interesting question: If South Park was shown on Adult Swim rather than Comedy Central, would it be a lot funnier?

The answer? Yes.

Why? Ted Turner.

.

..

.

I kid.

I kid.

It Is 2008

2008-01-02T00:14:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Ma'am, Trim Your Mustache by My Communist Penpal
I was driving to the mall (of all places) today when I suddenly realized, "It's 2008." While this may seem obvious to most, and therefore moronic on my part, it's not the changing of the calendar date that caught me off guard. It's the fact that it is now January 2008.

I graduate in May 2008. Let's do some math: January is the first (1) month. May is the fifth (5). 5-1=4 (we'll round up since I graduate at the end of May). FIVE months until I graduate.

NOT ready for this.

But you know what I am ready for? SEEING JUNO NEXT WEEK! WOOO!

I'm excited. Can you tell?

ANNNND to make this mindless bit of daily minutia a bit more tolerable, some bitchin'.

First, let me propose my new idea, which I plan on sending a letter to some sort of linguistic authority concerning: Get rid of participles, at least in their current form. I came to the conclusion that this change had to be made when I used the word "fucking" in such a context. I think I said something about hating this fucking ______ (I'm drawing blanks, bear with me). Someone made a joke about it being a ______, but with fucking. This really, REALLY pissed me off. BUT, this confusion could be avoided if there was a new part of speech, wherein I would have said "I hate this fucken _____". Replacing "ing" with "en". It's brilliant. Nay, I am brilliant. Just send me a check for a billion dollars now, Oxford University.

It was a really piss-poor joke, I swear, thus warranting a new part of speech.

Guess you had to be there.

And, in tin-foil hat news, colleges supposedly look at applicants web activities? I must look like a fucken prat.

And then there's this ID at the theater nonsense. Last week, Bob didn't have his (the guy just had surgery, for God's sake) and they weren't going to let him in. I tried to bail him out, telling the ticket-taker, "Oh, well he's my older brother" (I had an ID). Then my brother pulled some Jedi mind trick shit and pointed at his Virginia Tech hoodie, stared the guy in the eye and said, "I'm in college." It worked.

Then I went with Dane tonight to see Walk Hard. He has some free pass deal, so we go a fair bit. Anyways, I left my wallet at home (I just had surgery, for God's sake*), and the dude at the ticket counter gave me a really hard time about it. But being the brilliant masterminds that we are, we got tickets to the Golden Polar Bear Fight, but instead of seeing that, we walked into Walk Hard. We are so smart. We should tell other people about our little trick. In the future, other kids could use it instead of the ol' buying tickets to movies they don't want to see and then seeing aforementioned movie they don't want to see.

*Well, not really. I'm just forgetful.

Car Bitch

2007-12-20T11:14:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Painted by Numbers by the Sounds
So yesterday was less-than-stellar. It was a half day (and our last day before Channukah break), which is fine, I suppose; we don't ever do anything on half days, so I would have rather slept in, but whatever. So I went to school as usual (though I did get to leave much later because of no advisee meetings and no homework to do). The usual-ness ended right when I was getting to school, though. The steering wheel on the Shit Wagon jerked to the right as I was getting off the highway, leading to me taking out the guardrail, going down into a ditch and then coming up the other side. Clearly, I was delighted. At first I thought I had blown a tire or something (two of them were looking pretty flat yesterday, but I put air in them and thought we were cool), and I also thought that I had knocked the axle out of place, so when I called my parents, I told them the car was done. Fortunately that was not the case. I would feel like a huge dick if I killed both the washing machine my parents had had since before my older brother was born (which I did do, back in September) and the car we've had for ten years (which I erroneously thought I did) in a three-month period. But some people stopped to help and I got the car out of the ditch and off to school. I got the whole "mom-thinks-I'm-dead-in-a-ditch" thing ironed out, got my knees to stop shaking and went on with my day.

I used to hate driving. Then Robert left and I needed a way to get around. I began to love driving. Then I realized that my car is living on borrowed time, and that realistically, I should kiss the ground every time I get somewhere to thank God for not killing me. My car is "Final Destination". It is a "Saw" trap. If forced to choose between driving 45 miles to school every day in it or sawing off their foot, most people would choose the latter. It's bad.

AAAAAND the new Batman trailer, which, I watch pretty much every day, is out. I swear, if I drove the Tumbler, none of this would have happened. I would have taken out that guardrail, then taken out this, then taken out that creek, then taken out the school and gone home, which I very likely would have taken out as well. I wish I were Batman.

PS: If you don't like what I say about you on here, either A) stop reading, or B) change, as I have no intention of stopping how I feel towards your behavior or whining about it on the internet.

Back of My Neck Gettin' Dirt And Gritty

2007-12-01T22:56:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Summer In The City by the Lovin' Spoonful
This, along with Blue Monday, may rank among the greatest songs every. I mean, there are songs I like, and then there are truly great songs.

Dane has driven me around considerably as-of-late, and we usually listen to that song, driving through town on a freak-out.

Just thought I'd let you know. Not really much to say beyond that, except that a certain someone is a colossal bitch, and I get the feeling she's just putting on a show. I know people who drink, and I know people who smoke, and they aren't nearly as in-your-face about it as she is. Screaming and yelling about how you just have to have nicotine... I'm so sure. I've seen her at other times when she's said she hadn't smoked in a while and she wasn't all bitchy like that. Truth be told, if I had been driving, I'd have left her ass on the side of the road.

But that seems to be more of a recent development. My tolerance for putting uo with bullshit has fallen to about zero. I actually did yell at her at one point last night, and at a kid in my econ class, and then about econ during econ. I'd say it's a sign that I'm growing up, but it's more of growing down, because I'm becoming less mature as time goes by.

Dumb

2007-11-29T22:40:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Better Already by Northern State
It may be really cocky to say this, but, well, I definitely think (so would that mean I know?) that I am bigger than high school. Above it. Whatever. Busy work, dress codes, internet filters, time-wasting this-and-that... I'm done with it. I mean, I'm not done with it; that won't be for about six more months. But mentally, I've moved past the point where I feel comfortable having people tell me that I lack the intellectual capacity to dress myself and occupy myself.

I'm also done with grades. Specifically, teachers putting in one grade that, at the end of the term will be meaningless because of all the other grades, but right now is my only one in the class, meaning that, once more, I am failing Spanish. I can't read ye olde poetry in English. Reading a poem written in ye olde Spanishe? No sir. So of course, I got a "What's the deal here?" when I got home, resulting in a "go to coach class." Teachers love to use that as a conversation-finisher, but the truth is, 9 times out of 10, coach class isno help whatsoever. Most of the time I get straight up ignored. Either the teacher prefers certain students in the class, or doesn't seem to care at all about the students in a given course. But still, "Why weren't you in coach class?"

High school is dumb. It only took me four years to realize it.

I'm Not An Inmate, I'm French, Damnit

2007-11-26T22:51:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Music Is My Hot, Hot Sex by CSS, which, I might add, I downloaded two weeks before I saw the iPod commercial.
And now I'm listening to Living in America by the Sounds, which, by the way, isn't about how awful America is, you ginger dope.
Ah, driving. I love to drive. It's probably the most relaxing thing I can think of. Except, of course, when other people get involved.

Bitch in a Lexus riding my ass. Just because your car is sleek and sexy and fast doesn't mean you should try and hitch a ride on my bumper. Sleek, sexy and fast mean nothing when your grill is in my backseat.
Passengers touching my wares. Just put it in the back, okay? No need to snoop. Last thing I need is anyone find my five bricks of coke and extensive German pornography collection.
A certain other driver messing with my seat, mirrors and radio. He's shorter than me, so why is the seat pushed back? The radio's always both off and turned down. PICK ONE. The mirrors? I guess that's forgivable. But the rest? Not at all.
Cops hiding with their lights off trying to pull me over when it's pitch-black outside and I almost hit them because my right headlight is out. Pretty cut-and-dry. Let's keep the lights on, Biggun.
People on cellphones, or texting, or putting on makeup. I would say, "Can't it wait?", but most of the things being said over those calls and texts are usually pretty inane, so I'd advise those people to just forget it. Same goes for the makeup; you look like a hooker. That's not a good thing. Sure, Jesus rolled with a hooker (or more? I've never actually read that part... or most parts of the Bible. Just what we read in Church), but that's not the same.
Radio DJs droning on and on and on and on, and when they DON'T PLAY DAVID BOWIE ON THE RADIO in the mornings. That man is the only reason I can even muster up the strength to get in the car each morning to go to school, and when I don't get my Bo, I can't function.

And in other news... Today must be the anniversary of Michael Richard's racist outburst, because they're talking it up on CNN right now. That's rather ironic because the episode of Seinfeld I saw on TBS today had Kramer falling asleep in a tanning bed and walking around in blackface. Hmf.

And I got some sexy, sexy shoes. I need to find a camera. I mean, seriously, I've never been so obsessed with shoes, but this pair is special. Magical, perhaps?

This Movie Really PIST Me Off

2007-11-24T03:07:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Out of Control (State of Emotion) by Kenna
It's a horrible pun, but I thought of it during the movie (at a point when I still liked it!) and almost died laughing.

Anyways, I saw the Mist. I love Stephen King, I had just read the Mist (in its <200 page glory) and was working on the Stand (which I have now completed all 1200 pages of), so laws yes, I went to go see it. It was quite faithful to the book as we merrily rolled along through a misty day in Maine, and still somewhat faithful through the second and third days of mistiness in Maine.

Then, of course, there was the ending.

LAWS YES, the ending, which I will reveal below.

M-O-O-N, that spells "Frank Darabont what the fuck were you thinking when you made the Punisher murder his son, his lover and the geezers in the backseat, followed thirty seconds later by him finding out he didn't have to?"

I know people say this every time EVERY TIME a book is adapted into a movie, but the book ending was SO MUCH better, and it would have worked! I guess not-so-much in a narrator-free movie, but they could have just shut the projector off when the car ran out of gas and we would have gotten the same effect. Instead, Americuh prevails and a man, after 2 hours and change of courage, turns into a coward who shoots everyone else but not himself.

BOLLOCKS.

'Course, I got $20 out of it. My dad and brother were positive ABSOLUTELY POSITIVE that Ms. Carmody was played by mom #1 in Big Love, but I knew, deep in my heart, it was someone else.

The War on Thanksgiving

2007-11-17T11:27:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Black Tongue by Yeah Yeah Yeahs
I went up stairs a while ago. I was craving ham (there's a large ham in the fridge; I don't know why it is there but it is delicious) so I went up to the kitchen for a ham 'n mustard sammich.

I was greeted with Christmas music. The same Christmas music that has been playing since the first weekend of November, a mere two days after Halloween.

It's no surprise that my sister is playing her music so loud that you can hear it in the kitchen. It's also no surprise that she is playing loud music while watching TV on a high volume. I've come to terms with that which I must endure if I want to live in this house.

But Christmas music? This early? The Christmas season starts on the Friday after Thanksgiving, not the day after Halloween. So I should be good for not hearing Wham! complaining about what he gave his bufu buddy last Christmas and won't be giving him again this year for another week. Instead, I am hearing Wham! complaining about what he gave his bufu buddy last Christmas and won't be giving him again this year.

People should have more respect for Thanksgiving. It gives everyone an excuse to be fat. And there's stuffing, which is the best food in the world. Seriously. My last meal before they put me in the chair will be a five-course meal of stuffing. First, a stuffing salad. Then a stuffing soup, followed by a stuffing filet with a side of mashed stuffing coated in stuffing gravy. For dessert, stuffing pie. Then the waiter will hand me my bill and a stuffing mint. So yeah, that's why I like Thanksgiving. And because I don't have to hear people bitching about this-or-that about the holiday (war on Christmas, Halloween is evil, Valentine's Day is BS, et cetera). Though I ought to remind everyone that it's a secular holiday, so all the church signs about Thanksgiving are a tad misinformed. Yet no one is running around like a decapitated chicken bemoaning the forgotten spirit of Thanksgiving.

So I'd like to take this time to thank my sister for destroying an American institution, and to give her the bird.

I'm really just complaining because I hate Christmas music. I find it annoying and crappy and corny even on Christmas morning.

And I suppose people do bitch-n-moan about the Indians at Thanksgiving and this stuff about genocide and whatnot. Genocide? More like, stuffing-get-inside. Mmmm. Stuffing.

Another thing about my sister: she's annoying. I get sick and tired of this maligned-middle-schooler crap. We get it; being a suburbanite is tough, what, with her fancy clothes (did I mention that last year, on the day after Thanksgiving, we went shopping as a family and she spent somewhere in the range of TEN TIMES as much as I spent?) and spending-every-waking-moment-on-facebook-listening-to-Christmas-music loud-and-watching-MTV-on-my-parents'-HDTV. Middle school girls are bitchy? Heard it all before... WHEN I WAS IN MIDDLE SCHOOL. I'm quite glad that chapter of my life is over, and I don't plan on reliving it until my children are in middle school, which, considering I don't even have a lady-lover yet, is quite far off in the future.

She was in high-horse mode last night. My dad had just gotten back from a business trip (to Mexico... sounds suspicious) and was giving out the souvenirs he got. For my sisters and mom he got some Mexi0-jewelry, and my youngest sister and mom were going through it to split it up when the whiny sister says, "I'll wait because I'm grateful." A few minutes later, she said something to the effect of "You guys take and the cute stuff and leave me the crappy stuff."

Bitchy to the MAX!

Oooh, now I'm angry. I'm probably going to stop driving her to school. She can find her own damn way. I didn't get driven to school until I was a freshman, why should she get special treatment?

Driving Hell

2007-11-12T18:35:00.000-05:00

Currently Watching: Futurama
"When you do things right, people won't be sure you've done anything at all." - God

"I was God once." - Bender
"Yeah, I saw that. You were doing so well until everyone died." - God

I love this episode of Futurama so much; really more than anyone could ever begin to grasp. Just a little FYI.

So today was the first day of exams. I did somewhere in between "the best I've ever done" and "Ryan, we're making you repeat the twelfth grade... after you repeat all the others". I'm okay with that.

I'm not okay with leaving my head lights on for seven hours and having pretty much no gas. I'm especially not okay with calling school security hoping for some sort of assistance and pretty much being told to go fuck myself (not in those words, of course). Security at our school, outside of check-ins and sleeping in the parking lot, does nothing. So is it too much to ask for a ride to a gas station or a jump start, or any sort of "I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do"? "Why would you call us?" was not the ideal answer. Jackasses.

But Claire and Andy and Doug's dad were all there to help, and after a few hours I finally got home. On fumes. Scary-scary.

And the g-d hood won't open. How am I supposed to fix the battery if I can't get to it?

Every Time I See You Falling, I Get Down On My Knees And Pray

2007-11-11T20:07:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Bizarre Love Triangle by New Order

So tomorrow is the beginning of the end of my high school exam taking. This will be the last set of fall exams at Dar. After this I only have winter exams... For the fall, there are only two that I could take (the rest are APs), but my Econ teacher probably wouldn't make me take it even if my grades were that bad and my Graphic Design exam would just be a portfolio...

But I digress. All that matters is that another phase of my youth is being phased out.

I saw a commercial earlier for some wildlife video. It promised something for everyone; animals fighting, animals mating-- Mating? Someone out there called up the company and said, "I'd buy more videos if you had some hedgehogs boning"? I hate this country SO MUCH. Though I suppose its not just America.

WHY? WHY DOES THIS COMMERCIAL PLAGUE MY GRAY MATTER?

In other news, in the month and one week since I've gotten my license, I think I've become infinitely more masculine and horny. I don't really know where I'm going with this. Maybe a warning for the ladies to keep an eye on their pants while around me.

There is no--
This is no--
Modern ro-mance.

We have security check points at school. It's pretty freaking ridiculous. After eight, they close all the gates but one, so to leave from the library parking lot (which I think is the only one I can park in after school; have to park at the gym during school) means you have to drive through pretty much the entire campus, which takes quite some time when you're going the 3 mph it takes to get over the cascade of speed bumps without destroying my car. THEN, after facing all kinds of going-the-other-way traffic on a one-lane road, I have to register my tag/parking sticker and tell them why I'm there. It takes forever. It's overkill, too; if I really wanted to get onto the campus undetected, I'd just drive through the tunnel from the gym. They put up some concrete cones so you can't do that, but there's totally enough space to get by them, so they wasted some concrete/time. I might try that.

Good/Bad

2007-11-09T23:46:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Cellphone's Dead by Beck
Good: Didn't oversleep this morning.
Bad: Had to go outside 20 minutes earlier than normal to get ice off of car (esqueeze me, but this is Georgia and we're in a drought... this shouldn't be happening)
Good: David Bowie on the way to school
Bad: Almost wrecked into my English teacher
Good: Ate a waffle.
Bad: Lost at Whammy in AP Stats (we play simulated gambling games rather than actually learn)
Good: Run panicking into college office only to find out that the college fairy had already dealt with my recommendations
Bad: Dan In Real Life sucks... The projector wonked out halfway through and Adrienne and I didn't even bother telling the manager for free passes... We just left.
Good: Asking Walmart employee where they shelf their man thongs.
Bad: Awkward conversation with mom, in front of her friends, concerning "lady-friend".

I report. You decide. Good day, or bad day?

Despite the English teacher and Dan-In-Real-Life incidents, the college this makes the day a victory... I was losing serious sleep over that damn common application, so to find out that my shazbot had already been mailed in was a gift from above.

Or below. It's always possible Satan willed it into action.

Illin' Like A Villain

2007-11-05T16:29:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Little Angel by Hard-FI
As I type this, at this very second, happening parallel to rising tensions in Pakistan, writers' striking in LA, husbands coming home from to work hug their wives & beat their childrens and car chases resulting in highly stylized explosions, I am sick. I realize that everything else is irrelevant. I am on my death bed, coughing up blood as the TB slowly claims my little body...

Okay, so it's not that bad; I had suspected strep (because I get it EVERY SINGLE YEAR, WITHOUT FAIL), but a visit to the doctor turned up some shenanigans about a virus and congestion or something. I just smiled and nodded while being told this, holding out my hand in time to have it filled with pills-- Halloween came four days late! Or three hundred sixty one days early. Take your pick.

But my illness did not prevent me from seeing 30 Days of Night on Saturday, which was the source of two complaints, neither of which have ANYTHING to do with that fantastic movie:

Trailer for "The Mist", which ruined my reading of the book, seeing as they confirmed something that, at the point I was at in the book, was only speculation. Thanks, bastards. I even had my eyes closed so as not to ruin it, but... And my dad thought I was scared... Really? I mean, seriously?
Fat bitch in back row, bringing with her FOUR CHILDREN, none of whom could have been older than three. In case you're unaware, which I can only pray she was, 30 Days of night is about a town cut off from the rest of the world by a pack of vampires hoping to eat everyone in the town. Key words being "vampires" and "eat". Blood is implied, as is gore. Lots of those two. Loud noises and lots of jump-out-at-you kind of things wouldn't be considered out of place. Yet this woman still has the nerve to drag a bunch of babies into this well-earned R-rating. Now, if they were complacent/mute babies, I wouldn't mind. Parenting is up to the parents. But when they spend the entirety of the previews and the first 30 minutes of the movie screaming and crying, there's an issue. Now, if you know me, you know it takes more than a full bladder, and empty drink and a burning theater for me to get up out of my seat, but I was driven to the brink of madness... This is why I hate children. And even after I got the manager to come in, it took the woman maybe ten minutes to get her act together, as well as dragging the stroller down the stairs, hitting EVERY SINGLE STEP. But everyone got a free ticket, so it all worked itself out. Again, my dad didn't have any idea what I was doing... He thought I was up for a piss or something, and someone else complained... NO, dad; I got you and everyone else a free ticket. People of movies 278 theater 13 on Saturday evening, you are welcome.

People just don't know how to go to the movies any more. It saddens me. Ruining the surprises of several horror movies in the trailers (The Mist, One Missed Call, a third one I've forgotten...) and crying babies... This is why movie theaters are dying. Do we really want to watch the fortieth James Bond movie on a home theater screen in however many years? I for one don't. If you do, please go step in front of the nearest train, because we're better off without that kind of attitude.

So basically, nothing's happening in my life right now. And I mean that in the least angsty of ways; just an observation upon re-reading what I've had to complain about.

A Yet-To-Be-Titled Post (Which Is A Paradox, As It Is Now Titled)

2007-10-29T18:56:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Paralyzed Prince by Office

So the drama-drama worked itself out. Everything went fine. Good for me. Good for him. Good for the other him. Though I did fall off the stairs in the Oscar Wilde scene. The lights were down, so no one knew. I knew. My failures keep me up and night, and sleep only comes after extensive crying-myself-to-sleep.

But do you know what's NOT resolved? My not having a phone. I own a phone. That's not the problem. I didn't have it taken away from me. That's not the problem either. It is currently locked away at school. Y'see, there's this rule... AT SCHYULE... that we have to turn our phones in to the teacher in every class. Something about cheating. Anyways, in some classes, the teachers have those shoe racks that hang over the door and you just slip the phone in. Other teachers have buckets. My problem lies with the buckets. Every day EVERY DAY I leave my phone in the buckets. Most of the time I figure it out a period or so later and go back and snatch it in between classes. This doesn't work when you have the class last and the teacher has already left. Then I'm left without a phone. I shouldn't mind that, considering I fucking hate talking on the phone, but it sill really gets at me. Something about not having the option to do something, regardless of actually wanting to do it. I don't know, I'm not a shrink. Maybe there's some... brain... thing

Aw, fuck it, I've lost interest in that rant. How about the one I left out up top, where someone got upset that I said "Goddamn" in the play. I had to change it for the second performance, and I felt really dirty for it. Can you say, "This douche has not artistic integrity whatsoever?" There are a bunch of trogs and philistines in this town. It's "Goddamn" for God's sake. If you, like me, opperate under the assumption that this God fellow created all of existence, surely you could reason that the guy is a little too important to care about someone tacking dammit onto his name. Besides, I don't think that's what the thing about taking his name in vain even means... That seems a tad petty to be worried about for, like I said, a guy who is a big deal, and I've always though people saying stuff like that was like, "This sucks, help me out," which is pretty much the point, no?

Taking his name in vain, to me, would appear to mean that people who seek to somehow gain from believing in him rather than actually believing in it are bastards. So if you use it to get you elected (re: almost everyone talking about running in '08), or use it as a sort of social-status (re: a lot of people at my school) or have a little fish on your company's advertisements, you're not on God's good side.

Just a theory, though. I think it's valid, though. Maybe I could send it to a Christian musician to write a song about it... Oh wait, he/she/they are profiting off of their religions.

What a petty, petty complaint. I am a whiny little bitch... disregard all of this.

Right now, there are only two words you need to know, and they are "Declan Sanchez"

...More to come.

Paranoia.

2007-10-14T12:23:00.000-05:00

I feel a tad shameless for finally succumbing to the temptation that is video blogging. I feel kind of lame for doing it, but at the same, I don't. Suck it.

Homecoming Champ

2007-10-05T23:04:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To:

Less Than A Week

2007-09-29T16:33:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Forgotten Works by Klaxons
Sure, posts about my upcoming birthdays are uninteresting on a cosmic scale, but I still felt the need to talk about it.

In less than a week, I will turn seventeen. This means that I will have ceased to be sixteen, and will never return to that point ever again. That seems obvious, but ti's still mind blowing and depressing. I like sixteen. Sure, seventeen has its perks (er, perk; R-rated movies... and NC 17 movies), but I still like sixteen. Seventeen sounds too old. Too old, at least, to spend my afternoons playing N64. Now, instead of being eccentric, I'll just be pathetic. That's no good.

AAAAND I got on homecoming court, which is even weirder than turning seventeen. I mean, really, of all people, me? But I've decided to just roll with it. I even commissioned the design of some campaign posters (even though you don't campaign for homecoming king, or so I'm told), but they were deemed offensive and promptly ripped down during some teacher's planning period. But it's all gravy. AAAAND there was this whole ordeal of the school expanding homecoming court from six to nine girls (and subsequently boys), supposedly because of a tie, but I heard that there were some notable omissions, and so edits were made. SCANDALOUS. But then there's this one guy who, despite being on court the past three years and I think winning it once, didn't make it this year, even though the odds were better. I like to think that I was number nine, and he's number ten. Not that I have anything against him personally; it just makes me feel better about my sad, sorry self.

I still don't think a picture of Conan with my mug on it is that offensive; I didn't even have that little herpesmudge on my lips in it.

P-P-P-P-Pneumothorax is a word that is long;
Nah, just trying to put the punk back into punctured lung

Definition

2007-09-24T18:26:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: For Us by Pete Yorn
I was just watching a video on CNN of a Senator (I think it was the Senate... I'm ashamed to say I can't tell the Senate from Congress) condemning Columbia University for hosting Iranian President Amamammenajabadroflmaobbq, when I heard one of the many words used in the media today of which I haven't the slightest idea what it means:

TERRR.

What the hell is terrr? I mean, this guys talks about it, Bush talks about it... Everyone talks about terrr. Me? I don't talk about terrr. What's terrr?

Oh, I see; terrr is how you pronounce terror if you're a backwoods, ignorant redneck who hasn't the slightest idea what he's talking about.

Ain't nobody talking 'bout terrr on Heroes, which starts once more in just one hour and 28 minutes... I am ecstatic. Time to find out who lived and who died... Apparently Claire is in witness protection! And boyfriended! EXCITEMENT ABOUNDS. Maybe some studying will too; we'll see how the night goes.

Rock Bottom

2007-09-23T15:13:00.001-05:00

Currently Listening To: No Cars Go by the Arcade Fire
Just a little FYI, this song will be playing at my funeral. I'm not entirely sure how one goes about designating that (maybe carry an envelope with me at all times declaring it as such? or just flat out telling people), but if ever you find yourself being asked, "What song is to be played at his funeral?", you know.

I fell asleep on the couch last night. I woke up around 5ish (having fallen asleep hella early; I'm thinking 10ish) and looked at the floor, where I saw one of our dogs. It was strange; they don't usually go down into the basement unless there's food or a storm. Still, I called to her. She didn't respond. It's okay, I thought, she's sleeping. So I called her some more, and she did nothing. I rolled off the couch and dragged myself over to her and reached out to pet her (I was pretty delirious), only to find out that it was a pair of pants.

If I had to describe "hitting rock bottom" as anything, I'd say shouting at a pair of pants sums it up.

Desperation is something pretty well summed up as someone jumping out of their car at a stop light and pressing the pedestrian-walk-whatever button. I mean, just how bad do you need to get somewhere? Those things don't even work. REALLY.

Just thought I'd check in.

2007-09-20T22:12:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: A Question of Time by Depeche Mode
While I lack something of actual substance to post, I thought that I would let any interested parties know that, were I to chart my emotional state over an extended period of time, the chart would look like mountain range or the heart rate monitor thing at the hospital, and right about now, I'd be down at the nadir (that, my friends, is a good vocab word; write it down). School isn't getting me down or anything (though I am welcoming this weekend eagerly). I'm just not happy. That's the worst kind of sadness; nothing's actually wrong, you're just sad.

I suppose that's just part of being a teenager. When I'm an adult, periods of unhappiness won't necessarily be periods of sadness. I just won't be either, which is fine by me.

It's weird that I'm feeling like this, because yesterday morning, I was riding on the biggest high I'd ever felt. Everywhere I went, it was like a chorus of people was whistling a happy tune and birds were chirping and the sun was shining and everything was well.

Maybe my being raped by a clown last night has something to do with it.

Mystery illness strikes after meteorite hits Peruvian village

2007-09-19T20:09:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Black Holes & Revelations by Muse (THE ENTIRE ALBUM... ISN'T THAT COOL?)

More like, "Mystery Illness strikes ME After I Hit Your Mom Last Night". Oooh, burn.

Sorry, I thought that was clever.

That's a link, by the way.

Know what isn't clever, and is in fact quite annoying? The answering machine on our home phone. It's a combination of two things: Down in the basement, I can totally hear that loud-ass phone when it rings, and then when no one picks it up (we're all pretty lazy), I have to sit and listen to the whole message-leaving schpiel. Secondly, our outgoing message is not someone people would actually be calling the house for saying "We're not here right now". Instead, it's my sister, who (incorrectly) thought it would cute/clever/scene to record her own outgoing message, just so people know she lives here too.

I think it's more annoying when I'm calling the house and I have to sit through that. Outgoing messages are annoying. I just want to leave you a message, not hear your fucking life story.

That's been bothering me for ages. Nice to get it off my chest.

Rampant Lesbianism

2007-09-15T19:58:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Violent Pornography by System of a Down
So this afternoon, I saw The Brave One (I'm going to skip over the part where I visited yet again the college that I've realized is almost as awesome as the other one I want to go to). It was a reeeeeeally good movie (the ending was a tad cheesy, but I'll let it slide).

But while I was walking out of the theater, I realized something:

I am a lesbian.

I'll shout it from my computer chair: I am a lesbian. I'm currently downloading the complete works of Melissa Ethridge.

Why am I a lesbian? Because I'm a sucker for movies about how men are spineless and the only people capable of taking control of a bad situation are women. Panic Room, Red Eye, Flightplan, Resident Evil, Nightmare on Elm Street series (Jesse had to get his gal-pal to do all the work for him)... All movies that could end up on Lifetime, which is now the only channel on my satellite; I called DirecTV and told them to cancel all the others.

Anyways, my love for these corny women-kicking-ass movies obviously means I'm a lesbian. Or a radical feminist. Or a chauvinist.

Or it means something completely different. I know it means something.

Wait, do you have to be a chick to be a lesbian?

Got all worked up for nothing.

Bitch

2007-09-12T20:47:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Build Me Up Buttercup by the Goops
As of my writing this, at 9:49 on September the 12th, 2007, I have a little more than three weeks left of being 16.

I like 16. It's young to the point of not having a whole hell of a lot of responsibility, but still not too young.

In three weeks, that's gone. I go from teen-teen to old-teen.

In the department of "making me feel even more anxious about turning seventeen", my mom pointed out that 17 is the age when I will start college. On October Fifth, I will be the same age as when I pack up all my shit and move to some place that, as of right now, I have no idea where it is.

(insert a gunshot sound effect, or some other "boom" type sound, here to signify my mind being blown)

Pray for my getting a license. Hopefully it'll be sometime before Bush is unemployed. And if that's the case, hopefully he'll be expelled from office sometime this week.

If I could go back to the spring of my sophomore year and just live then forever, that would be great. I think that might be the happiest I've ever felt. Secure, too. Everything was very certain, you know? Robert's graduation was more than a year away, and my graduation wasn't even a thought. I still had my love seat, my crappy WalMart TV, my upstairs room, my viking bed... I never had to explain why I didn't drive...

Goddamn, I'm emo. I wasn't emo then. All the more reason to go back.

I suppose I could also go back and make bets using my current knowledge. The only flaw in that plan being that I can't remember who won the Superbowl/World Series/Final Four/whatever, so that would do me no good. Eh, whatever. I'd still be from the future. That would cool in and of itself.

Impulse Had Me Type "Tony Danza" The First Time

2007-09-11T20:43:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Tiny Dancer by Elton John
While viewing the flood of half-assed and cheesy sorrow unfold on Facebook, I was reminded of my September Eleventh experience. Two days or so afterwards, we were asked to do an entry about our thoughts in our English journals. Mine was about how I was tired of seeing 24/7 news reports on the subject. I was ten years old and I wanted to watch the Simpsons, dammit.

People got pissed. But could you really blame me for being so apathetic? Sure, 3000 people dying is no small thing, especially when it was due to a terrorist attack, but to a ten-year-old in the week immediately following that, I sure as hell had no idea what it really meant. I didn't know anyone who had died (Georgia=not close to New York), and didn't know I knew anyone who knew someone who died until about a year later. Thus, it was 100% abstract to me (until I saw the video of a guy splattering on the ground, which is a tad more tangible). Call me cynical, but whenever I see people (people at my school, not people in, like, New York) getting all teary eyed over it, I can't help but suspect it isn't genuine. Feeling sad about something that had a minimal impact on your life aside from hearing about it a lot just seems bizarre. Again, just being cynical. People die all the time. Large numbers of people. Often for seemingly avoidable things. Yes, terrorism is awful, but so is drunk driving. 1000x people killed a year in drunk driving/drunk-related deaths, no one sheds a tear unless it was someone in their family. Religious zealots not entirely different than some folks we've got who were born and raised in our country kill 3000 people and everyone writes a song about it.

Just a thought.

Iron Man (I had to change my pants after viewing this masterpiece)

Southern accents, not surprisingly, annoy me. I've never identified with the whole Southern 'thing', so that extra reminder of this shit, well, why would I like it? Anyways, both of my sisters have seemingly spontaneously picked accents up. Another reason to go to college.

And then this thought I had last night: People don't like it when I'm all open about my SAT scores (I did better than average), so I try to be modest, but it seems like people don't like that either because then it's condescending. Paradox? Quite.

Okay, so better than average is a gross understatement. Basically, any mention of those scores leads to a discussion of how I'm squandering my intelligence with my mediocre grades.

Weird Day

2007-09-08T17:15:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Out of Line by the Bravery
I had such a weird day yesterday.

It started out normal. Go to school. Take a quiz, turn in some homework, eat some greasy foodstuffs in the cafeteria (I'll likely be dead by the end of the year due to clogged arteries), yell at underclassmen for their seeming inability to not just stand there in the hallways...

Then 6th period happened.

Let me preempt a bit... This was not like the 6th period a few years ago where I irritated a scab and bled all over myself. This was not wierd like the 6th period the year before when my Spanish teacher illustrated the difference between ser and estar with my fatitude. This was not weird like Family Feud during sixth period last year.

What was it, then?

It was my Spanish teacher calling a Hispanic student a wetback.

It may be cliche, but the unfolding of said event was like in Children of Men, when there's a big explosion and all of a sudden you can't hear anything. You just look around and try and take in what happened. I didn't actually understand what she'd said (Clint explained later), but the look on the two of their faces was enough to see that a line had been crossed.

Needless to say, 6th periods are going to be quite different from now on. It's hard to defend her, but I wouldn't like to see her fired because the person they'd replace her with is not someone I'd like to have as a teacher again... The guy called me fat. But then again, she called a kid a wetback. That's no good. I mean, if you feel that way, I can't really force you to change your mind, but keep it to yourself, especially when you've got like three Hispanic kids in the class.

The next everything's-gone-mute experience I had yesterday was witnessing a little girl get hit by a car. I was with some friends going to a football game and, while my head was turned away, this little girl runs out into the street and get's jacked by the car facing us. I didn't see it, but I heard it. It was pretty fucked up. One of the kids in the car said it looked like she snapped her neck, but she's apparently going to be okay. That didn't stop her from screaming the most awful scream I've ever heard.

It was even weirder because I'd thought about people getting hit by cars a fair bit already that day. First, in graphic design, I decided to include "Jill gets hit by a bus" in my interpretation of Jack and Jill (Jack and Jill rode their bikes up an pyramid of elephants to compete in Mortal Kombat; Jack fell down, cracked his skull and Jill got hit by a bus), and a few hours later explained to Dane how the fact that I see Hyundai Tiburons everywhere I go means I'm going to get hit by one. I decided not to mention either once we got back in the car. That would just be douchey.

Did I mention I'm going to be killed by a Tiburon someday? I know this for certain. They really are everywhere, and I think it's got nothing to do with people really liking them. I'm having premonitions. Maybe I won't be killed/maimed by one, but one's going to be very important at some point. Maybe the president's going to be assassinated, and the killer will drive a Tiburon?

Eh, whatever. Hopefully it will hit me while I'm not looking.

I Feel Like I Haven't Done This In A While

2007-09-01T21:17:00.001-05:00

Currently Listening To: B.Y.O.B. by System of a Down
So, we're two weeks into schooooool. Er, I am two weeks into school; I have no idea who the fuck you are or what your story is, so quit pretending you go to my school, child molester. I think Daniel summed it up best by describing this year as surreal--it's like going to a different school but on the same campus. At least half the students appear to be new (even a bunch of new seniors... weird. I don't know how I feel about people who go to a school for just one year when it's their last year... Sketchy), we're now mega-uniform (though it doesn't seem as evident to me anymore... Girls, on the other hand? Starla got a lecture yesterday for wearing, sin of all sins, a blue headband. The teacher was giving her some serious 'tude, like she'd murdered someone or something), a demerit system for God's sake (my dad was like, "Oh, I didn't know I was sending you to military school"; he says it's more strict than the actual military school he went to), and they've moved and re-named like everything. It's confusing.

Tomorrow I'm going to do some serious work on college applications after hearing from pretty much everyone of my teachers that I should be almost graduated from college by now... I seem to have fallen behind. It might be because I'm lazy, but I also feel like all these suggested deadlines that have come and gone were news to me when people were talking about them in past tense. Either I missed some big info session last year or didn't realize how serious it was, but I've just got nothing. And as I look at these various applications and the process for submitting them to school (not the one I'm applying to, the one I'm already at) and see how complicated they are, I realize that I spent the past 16 years being completely oblivious to the entire college-thing. I suppose I've just expected to get a letter from some magically perfect school somewhere where everyone is just like me and you can pay tuition with the change in your pocket and there are no majors or term papers and everyone just sits around in the student center, like on Boy Meets World. But no, I will not be married to Topanga or taught by the same guy who's taught me my entire life while at college, which will not be attended by everyone I hang out with.

Now, instead of teenage nostalgia and moping, how about some complaining?

Perhaps, complaining about something random (well, not really) and irrelevant (quite)?

Popped collars were bad.

Uniforms? They were worse.

But popped collars... On uniforms? Any attempt to describe the baditude of such a combination could only result in failure. And yet, people at school pop their collars. Here's my rationale: if you lack the maturity/intellectual capacity to decide what you want to wear in the morning, you probably should refrain from popping your collar. Besides, isn't collar-popping for brightly-dyed Polos and Lacoste shirts? Our school crest is hardly a substitute for that little guy on his horse or whatever the hell Lacoste's logo is.

And these kids look like absolute morons. I mean, they looked dumb when they popped their Lacoste shirts. They looked really dumb when they wore uniforms. But when they did both at the same time? It wasn't dumb plus really dumb; it wasn't dumb times really dumb; no, it was dumb to the power of really dumb.

In other news, I still feel weird alone in the basement and I lack the ability to do homework on most nights. It's rough. And football is really boring. People need to stop expecting me to go to those games. I only went the past four years because of my brother.

The Fall of Innocence, or Something of Equal Melodrama

2007-08-19T20:39:00.000-05:00

Currently Watching: Big Love
In the span of one week, everything in my life has pretty much changed. Bob has moved out and starts classes tomorrow, and in a few hours, I'll begin my senior year. Of course, I'll be riding the loser cruiser for at least the first week... Joy of all joys, to be sure.

Despite knowing that all of this was going to happen, I still don't think I could have ever been truly prepared. Living alone in this basement is really weird. I've started sleeping in Bob's old bed; he told my mom that that was okay, and that he would sleep on the couch when he comes to visit, but it still feels weird, like I've moved on from his departure...

And now I'm talking like he's dead. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

It's a really squeaky bed; if I don't have headphones on or the radio blasting, I can't sleep too well. Then again, I really don't like my old bed, so I guess I'll just stay put.

But that doesn't matter. What does matter is this is pretty much the first time he hasn't been there, and not until now am I realizing just how dependent I was on him. Sure, his chauffeur-ery was pretty apparent, but now I realize he was pretty much more of me that I was. I don't know if any thing's actually changed, but I feel alone and naked and out of place.

And now that all three people who read this think I'm a mo for my bro, I'm going to bed. It's 10:30, and I'll never get up tomorrow lest I go to sleep soon.

That, or I'll watch TV until 6 a.m.

Failure

2007-08-11T17:46:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Let's Make Love and Listen to Death from Above by CSS
I remember writing, back in my freshman year, an essay for English about "rites of passage". One of the examples I used for modern rites of passage was getting a driver's license, and I don't think anyone would contest that.

So when someone fails at a rite of passage, like the one above, the only thing that comes to mind is "soul-crushing". I think that works. That's pretty much how I feel right now. This is like that time I found some receipts a few days after Christmas one year... receipts for things labeled "from Santa". That's really all I can compare this to in terms of disappointment. So much self-consoling and whatnot. Denial... Lots of denial. "You were nervous", "the instructor was too harsh", whatever.

On the other hand, "embarrassing" also comes to mind. I haven't been faced with too many embarrassing situations in the past, so if I had to equate the shame felt as that woman told my dad that I'd failed to anything, I'd say: riding a bike on a crowded street, crashing the bike and landing in such a way that the handlebar goes straight up my ass, at which point a clown approaches me and takes a lengthy hangover piss all over me; while still covered in piss-stained clothing with a bike hanging out my ass, I'm arrested for indecent exposure (my ass is showing, I suppose) and hauled off to jail without a chance to change clothes or remove the bicycle from my ass.

I think that sums up how I felt.

So yeah, I failed my driver's test. I could get 100% on my retest and still couldn't undo this. I'll think of it every time I see my license, every time I renew it, every time I drive, when my children are getting their licenses (parents who've smoked pot think they feel bad telling their children about the evils of drugs? try giving your kid tips on passing the test when you yourself failed).

I mean, is there anything that could possibly signify my non-worth of existence?

No.

At the age of sixteen, I have already faced the most crushing defeat I could ever imagine.

Excuse me while I go dig a sixty seven inch deep hole in the backyard, fill it with lye, surround said hole with all manner of flesh-eating critters and then do a nice big cannonball into my rightfully deserved peril.

There are starving children in Ethiopia who would gladly pass a driver's test, but ungrateful and selfish me had to go and squander it.

Things I Do Like, Things I Don't, And Things I'm Rather Apathetic Towards

2007-08-02T21:22:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Angels Losing Sleep by Our Lady Sleep
I actually kind of like this band. I suppose that should be a given, considering I haven't skipped or deleted the song at this point, but there was never a time whereupon I skipped into a record store, spotted and Our Lady Peace CD, soiled myself due to the overwhelming joy and gleefully leaped over to the register, at which point I tore open the packaging without even paying first because of extreme and unbearable anticipation.

But that is not of any consequence. What matters is that Matt Damon is on the Daily Show tonight, and that guy is awesome

Okay, so that was Thursday night. I got distracted... And now here I am, on Friday night. Since then, I've seen the Bourne Ultimatum. The movie itself was awesome. Some other aspects? Not so much. Take, for instance, the guy sitting next to me. He was eating nachos. I never understood why they even sell nachos at movie theaters until I saw this jackass munching on corn chips and licking spicy, liquid cheese off of his fingers... Ugh, makes me sick. Smug little asshole, eating his nachos... What a jerk.

And then, to make matters worse, there was a preview for a movie with Nicholas Cage. Aw, shit. It doesn't really matter what the movie was; I was doomed to hate it, on account of Nicholas Cage.

Of course, seeing as it was National Treasure 2, it's quite relevant what the movie was. Where do they get off making this movie? I mean, first of all, Nicholas Cage sucks. Pure and simple. Second of all, are people really stupid enough to believe that every national monument in like every country has huge bottomless pits underneath, which conceal centuries-old international conspiracies linking every major event ever?

Well, yes. But should Disney be encouraging this? And since when did they ditch the old, classic blue Disney logo in favor of this flashy, multi-colored new one? Those soulless bastards.

Siblings are annoying too. Well, I shouldn't say siblings. I should just say sisters, because that's what I mean. They talk and talk and talk, and I just can't take it. They talk about the dumbest shit. Ballet classes (don't care), middle school gossip/scandals (really don't care) and just everything, and frankly, they could be talking about me and I still wouldn't care. That's how much I'm not interested in what they have to say. AND on top of that, one of the sisters (who will be, again, left nameless to preserve her public image) showed my parents some Facebook pictures of the party my brother had a few weeks ago. I suppose I could understand it if something had been broken and no one owned up to it and the picture acted as evidence or something, but it wasn't an issue at this point. My parents hadn't been suspicious or anything. Everything was restored to how it once was. They even knew people had been over. So what was there to be gained by rolling over on your own flesh and blood, besides throwing away his trust?

Naturally, I went and deleted her (and the other sister) from my friends' list on myspace and facebook. Just to be safe.

I also don't like anime. Our satellite receiver seems to have gotten stuck on Cartoon Network, which wasn't a problem as I watched Futurama, and then Robot Chicken, and the Aqua Teen Hunger Force... But then anime came on.

It was the worst minute ever.

For serious.

But the pizza we ate after the movie was good. It was at a place that apparently has been around for a while but at the same time eluded this fat kid's awareness, called "California Pizza Kitchen". Basically, it was pizza, but it was really good pizza, and thne they put crazy stuff on it, like shrimp scampi. That's what I got. Hence, me listing it as an example.

Fin.

Spider Pig Is Not Funny

2007-07-30T11:26:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Blue Monday by Orgy
I saw the Simpsons movie on Saturday; it was really good, especially when compared to all the episodes from this past season that pop up on TiVo every week. They're pretty grim. But the movie? Not at all, and I do feel qualified to say that, because I've been watching it for at least ten years.

I do feel the need to complain about one thing... Spider Pig. It wasn't all that funny in the commercials. I mean, yeah, it's a pig. He's holding it on the ceiling. So? But I figured, like all unfunny-and-played-to-death scenes in movie trailers, it would go unnoticed in the movie. Well, not unnoticed; those things always get a laugh of two.

But then the pig came on screen for the first time. A girl behind me (who had to have seen it already, because she knew half the lines) started to sing Spider Pig, and a little kid in front of me (I don't know why parents don't seem to get "PG-13"... It's pretty simple) shouted Spider Pig. Then, later on, the actual Spider Pig scene came on, and people went nuts. Why? It's not funny. It really isn't. No one laughed at "Pres. Schwarzenegger", no one laughed at the EPA thing, no one laughed at the surprise celebrity cameo at the end (which I was unaware of until I read that it was a surprise cameo on Wikipedia the next day). So many jokes went straight over people's heads. I know it sounds elitist of me, but for God's sake, it's The Simpsons. It's not exactly high-brow.

I've got two suggestions that could end this dilemma from occurring again. First, no more children in movie theaters. Build little daycare centers in the lobby or something. Kids aren't the only people who talk in movies, but I suppose people would just lie if you asked them before they go in if they're talkers. I suppose people who raise talkers are talkers themselves, so maybe they'd stop coming as well.

Second, I think movie trailers shouldn't include scenes from the movie. They should film some additional stuff that gets the point across without telling you everything. I mean, there isn't much suspense in a movie if you've can say "We haven't gotten to such-and-such scene, so they're going to make it through this". It's kind of the opposite of Scream, where you thought Drew Barrymore was the main character, but she wasn't. If filming new material is too expensive, they could just show the first few minutes, like Dawn of the Dead did. That way, nothing's spoiled, and they didn't have to spend any money.

I love Dawn of the Dead. I wish I could watch it RIGHT NOW. But, I lost the DVD of it, along with all of my other favorite movies. I had them all in a little CD case, which has since gone missing. Dawn of the Dead, Saved, Clerks 2, Fifth Element... All missing. Probably some others as well, I just haven't noticed yet.

"Frustration, frustration; I hate this vacation."

Awful Movie

2007-07-27T23:59:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: I Predict A Riot by Kaiser Chiefs
I suppose I should preface this terrifying tale of me subjecting myself to unnecessary torture by providing a little background info:

When I was about ten or eleven, I saw a few minutes of a movie on TV. It was a recent horror movie about a haunted house which had (surprise of all surprises) trapped some people inside. One of them, who has a very large nose on which one could likely land a helicopter, gets fed up and attacks a painting of the house's original owner. The house retaliates by decapitating him with a large stone lion head. That ridiculous image has stuck with me over the past five or so years, not to the point of haunting my nightmares, but leaving me fascinated.

Fast forward to tonight, as I sit in my pajamas watching this movie on TV. Kind of a deja vu type scenario, as I sit on the same couch watching it on the same TV but in a different house. Anyways, long story short, the movie really blows. The stink of the movie still hangs in the air around the Cathode-Ray Shrine, and I'm sure my satellite box will never forgive me for such a grave dishonor as watching this movie on it.

First off, the unsightly-ness of the lead actress was distracting. Yes, that's superficial of me to say, especially considering how unattractive I am, but it still bothered me the entire time. This was not aided by how cliche the movie was. First you had the soulless professor who would stop at nothing to do this experiment (and don't get me started on how he thought the ghost story about the house was made up BY HIM but then turned out to be real), then the spoiled-rich city girl decked out in Prada shit, followed by the fratty no-head guy who was only interested in bedding the bitch and getting out of the house. There are two more characters who seem to serve no purpose whatsoever (why'd they even bother naming those guys?), and rounding off this diverse cast of white people is the aforementioned ugly chick, who is also crazy and somehow related to the house without even knowing.

There are no non-white people in the movie. Not even extras. What the fuck?

Anyways, the people fall victim to the traditional "Why did they think that was a good idea?" haunted house movie situations, except very little ever happens until late in the game. Most of the time is just spent showing the viewer that it's a big house, even bigger than the exterior would have you believe. So many unanswered questions... Why did the Pope movie the Vatican to rural Massachusetts? How is it that there is a giant castle that no one seems to know about, considering how densely populated Mass. is?

Ugh. It was awful. About forty-five minutes in, I realized I would not last much longer (two hour movie), so I watched most of the rest of it in fast-forward. I got to my beloved lion-decapitation scene and fast-forwarded to the end, quite disappointed.

There were a few redeeming factors to the movie: Catherine Zeta-Jones, Catherine Zeta-Jones' glam factor, Catherine Zeta-Jones' lesbianism (except she goes after the ugly chick), Owen Wilson's head being eaten by a rock lion head... That's about it. The house is pretty, too. I'd live there, all malicious spirits considered.

Epic Belch

2007-07-26T21:43:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: In The Backseat by Arcade Fire (I listen to some pretentious music)
I just burped a magnificent burp that smelled reminiscent of a hookah bar.

I woke up this morning and smelled the distinct odor I've come to identify as school smell. It's the aroma that can be detected during the season known as "Back-to-school". It may be that this is what this time of the year smells like regardless of school, merely the scent of summer turning into fall. Maybe it has to do with a change in the atmoshpere of cleaning supplies, shifting from whatever amusement parks and movie theaters use to whatever schools use. Maybe it's the smell of fear and uncertainty about the upcoming year. I can't possibly know for sure until the fall of 2012, when I will have officially ended my schooling.

But I'm not going to wait that long to find out, because frankly, I don't care. I'm more distracted by the hookah bar that has occupied my mouth.

More Celebrity Shennanigans

2007-07-24T17:55:00.000-05:00

Currently Weeping To: On Call by Kings of Leon... This song seriously makes me cry

And on a more testosterone-laden note, Lindsay Lohan was arrested today, a block from a police office, for possesion of cocaine and being well over the legal limit of alcohol. Good for her! The mugshot is attractive, as well.

This, of course, asks once more of what to do with these troubled young celebrities. My immediate reaction was execution, but my suggesting we feed Paris, Lohan, Vick and others to tigers would likely hinder my chances of getting a nomination in the 2028 presidential election, which would in turn hinder my chances of ever conquering the world (I'd only keep all of it for a while; I'd turn it back over to its rightful owners soon thereafter, keeping for myself a slice of land in the Benelux region... I'd want a little bit of beach territory, to be heavily guarded at all times so it's just me and not geezers, babies and garbage, and then some valley-type stuff). SO. I, of course, would need an alternate solution; this solution is to exile any celebrity that goes past the "night in the slammer" line. They'd be shipped off to an island/very deep/wide pit in the desert and left to their devices...

Along with some heavy-duty combat weaponry. Like I said, left to their devices; whatever happens, happens. Nicole Richie would have to wait until her baby was born, and then she (Nicole, not the baby, you douche) would be tossed in with the rest. The baby would get the Harry Potter treatment, except unlike Harry, it would never, ever find out the truth. Or instead of raised by common folk, it could be raised by that guy from Storm of the Century. EVIL BABY.

We could put cameras in the pit and it could be a reality show. There's nothing more real than celebrities fighting to the death in a pit in the desert.

Maybe the island could be the island from Jurassic Park. TWICE as entertaining. Except those crackwhores wouldn't be too filling for the dinos, which would subsequently starve. Maybe Mike Vick could get the dinos to fight (though I'd like to see him try to kill the loser).

VOLDEMORT KILLS HARRY, MARRIES GINNY, DRACO MARRIES HERMIONE, RON KNOCKS UP THE ALBINO CHICK, THE ASIAN CHICK BECOMES MINISTER OF MAGIC, DUMBLEDORE WAS A PEACY P ABUSING CHILDMOLESTOR, SNAPE WAS GAY FOR MOLEMAN

Except for the fact that no one is gay for Moleman

A Little Of This, A Little Of That

2007-07-23T23:35:00.001-05:00

Currently Listening To: The Universal by Blur
I almost died today. Well, maybe that's a huuuuuge stretch, but still; I decided to make some eggy in a basket, but none of the burners would light, so being the genius I am, I kept turning them off and on in hopes of getting somewhere, releasing all kinds of noxious gases into our humble kitchen.

I cannot stand my brother's friends. It's not a party by any means tonight, but they seem to be even louder despite being about a quarter of the crowd we had a few weeks ago. They scream and bark at the screen as they play videogames... I mean, for fuck's sake, are you serious?

I've decided to add 'mailboxes' to my list of nemisises... Nemisi. Whatever. Foes. Anyways, it seems like whenever I drive, mailboxes pop up from no where and try to inhibit my motor-vehicle-operating abilities. Come on, people! Switch to e-mail 100% and we can rid the earth of this plague once and for all.

Barking at a videogame? That's fucking ludicrous. Shut the fuck up.

Harry Potter's departure from my life has left me feeling empy and meaningless. Come back to me, Harry. My bed's always open.

Speaking of which, I plan on gay marrying Michael Moore. I love that man. Sicko was great. It really got me riled up. I went out of the theater and flipped a car and torched the local Republican Party headquarters.

The tax excuse is a really lame cop-out. Uh, yeah, things cost money. Money doesn't just materialize, and printing more doesn't help. But I can't force anyone into believing anything. I mean, if you don't support federalized medicine and allowing people who live miserable lives to try for something better here, fine by me. It's not like nearly every member of the offending party identifies as Christian, which would suggest they'd be interesting in helping the less fortunate, which apparently only applies to white, Protestants who vote Republican and don't ask questions.

Oh, Michael Moore. You're so cute and chubby.

Cute and chubby like the chick from Doctor Who, Rose. And the chick who played Tonks in Harry Potter. They appear to be the same person, but that's not the case.

When I die, I want to have a phonebooth dedicated my memory erected in the middle of our school's campus. It would be quite tacky and useless, what with all the cellphones? Even more useless if it were 100% concrete and the doors didn't open. And if it were a 500% scale model statue of a phonebooth. On its side. With dragon wings mounted on the left and right faces. And some sick tank treads for added mobility. And if it were spray-painted pink. And it had a sick antenna at the top, a la Bill and Ted. Hey, why not have Bill and Ted inside? And the good Doctor outside? And Christmas lights strewn about.

Seriously, stop shouting. It's a video game. It doesn't matter.

EDITEDITEDIT: albumsix.com This is really, really exciting. Like, "I need to change my pants and wipe up this chair" exciting.

Marilyn Manson Versus Richard Gere

2007-07-21T20:44:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: JET. All of it.

This past week was a good week to be a nerd. Both a Harry Potter movie and a book. Schwigity schwag. Robert and I went to see Order of the Phoenix like a week prior to Wednesday or so... I just got back from a weekend sans computer/phone/TV so my dates are off. No landmarks for the mental timeline. Anyways, it was really good. I mean, it beat the shiiiiiit out of the fourth one. That one, in retrospect, was garbage. And I don't want to hear the "it was such a long book" schpiel. Order was 200 pages longer as a book but the shortest movie in the series thus far. The secret? Montages. You can't go wrong with a montage, and the fellow who made this movie seemed to time them very well. I also really liked the albino chick. Anyone who like plays with dragons and keeps raw meet in her purse is a worthy bride in my book. And Bride of Frankenstein could kill the only person who is, by definition, a family to me any day. Hot.

But in all seriousness, I'd say, out of the five movies thus far, the fifth looked on film closest to how I imagined it while reading it, except Umbridge wasn't nearly ugly enough, though she certainly was sinister. Scared the shit out of me. Especially the Satan quill.

Anyways, so fast forward to this past week. Our family was, as we do every year, in North Carolina for the week. The best way to explain the place is, apparently, that it's like the place in Dirty Dancing. I've never seen it (and don't plan on it), but that's what I'm told. There's a 'lodge' building with lots of rooms in which to sleep, a huge dining hall, there are some cottages, a lake, various general use buildings... It's a conference center in the mountains, but for a few weeks in the summer they open for vacation-time. It's the place where I got 'hit' by a car last year. I didn't this year, though; I minimized my time in the middle of high-ish volume streets.

Anyways anyways, I'm haning with this cool cat, and she's like, "I haven't seen Harry Potter yet." I was like, "Let's go!" and she was like "I don't want to drive!" and I was like "I can't!" so I made my brother drive us, in the process picking up about fifteen or so other kids to go with us. And I dressed up, which was fun, even though my sheets were the wrong color and they tickettaher confiscated my broom(s). Apparently there is a rule at the theater against bringing cleaning equipment into the auditorium. Bitches. Even worse was that right after he metaphorically speaking slapped me in the face, he turned around and shouts to his manager, "Yeah, I got 'em." What a fucker, right? Anyways, my brother and I were kind enough to provide a commentary that time, and I had a crude sharpie glasses/scar combo on my face. It was awesome.

And then AND THEN I got my brother to take me, along with an awesome college kid and two other kids I didn't/don't know to buy the book at midnight. The plan was to go to the bookstore in the shitfers mall in town (there was an ad in the paper for their Harry Potter party) but the doors were locked and apparently the Ingles in the town in not a literate supermarket so... We went to Wal Mart. That's right; my integrity can be bought for $17.78. Whatever. I got the book at midnight, along with a Slytherin wristband without any traces of Wal Mart on it and an energy drink. So we got back to the campus about 12:45 and I pop a squat on the awesome peather couches they've got in the lobby while the 'others' (What is this, LOST?) sip spiked juice. After about two or so hours, I looked up and they were gone. It was about 2:30 a.m. and I was completely alone in this lodge out in the middle of the woods. The doors out to the porch were open and there were all these spooky noises and creaks and shit. It was nuts. I just kept reading. At about four, I was starting to get really tired (I've only stayed up all night once, and that was earlier this summer) so I stood up to walk around, do a few jumping jacks, stuff, you know? Then I saw a mostly-finished bottle of orange juice. Orange juice has sugar, right? Sugar will keep me up longer, right? Well, it may have had sugar, but as I chugged it, I realized it also had vodka in it. I don't think Minute Maid sold vodka-laden OJ, so I'm fairly certain it was "homemade". But I think people would buy vodka OJ. Anyways: reading, reading, reading... The empty lobby was an orgy of literacy. I was joined by all the greats: Shakespeare, Dickens, Grisham, evangelist outside arena handing out pamphlets. And we read. And suddenly, it was light out, and some real people (old people. real old people) began to walk through the lobby. I know it's a common joke to laugh about old people getting up really early, but it's 100% true. And then my dad walks in (this was probably a while later) and I got really confused and asked him what time it was and he said it was 7:15. Apparently he's old too. I wrapped up reading (page 577) at 8:15 and joined my family for breakfast. I continued reading at 9:30 or so when we left to come home and read for maybe 15 minutes until I remembered I get really car sick when I read, and that my brother likes to drive fast, and that we were going on curvy mountain roads, so I stopped reading and went to sleep for two hours or so and read non-stop until we got home, at about 1. Twelve hours to finish the book, about 9 of which were actually spent reading. Cool, cool.

I was really happy with the book, especially the ending, which proves Mrs. Rowling is a money-loving whore. I suppose if you want a more detailed analysis, you can contact me. I don't want to spoil it for some poor schlub who stumbles upon this God-forsaken corner of the internet.

Speaking of spoiling, as someone who has finished the past three Harry Potter books within 24 hours of their sales, I always joke about ruining it. I'll say stuff like, "Speaking of ______, you'll never believe who dies at the end!" or make up blatantly flase spoilers. People then close their ears or get horrified looks and beg me not to ruin it. SO, being the one-joke man I am, at dinner last night, I announced to my family, my aunt and two cousins that I planned to ruin the book for all eight of them (the subject was already on the book and my thoughts about it). Obviously. Quite obviously. Obvious to the extreme. Obvious to the point that I began to bleed from my ears, nose and asshole, everyone agreed calmly that it would be a dick move for me to commit such a heinous crime. It would have been bad if I did, which I didn't. I didn't ruin the book. Not in any form or fashion. BUT, as everyone was not overreacting to the news, someone in my family, who will not be named but you can likely figure it out. It's obvious. Quite obvious. Obvious to the extreme. Obvious to the point that I began to bleed from my ears, nose and asshole. Anyways, my sister (oops, I slipped) let out a horrible screech. It was the worst noise I'd ever heard. Worse than the sound of metal crunching in a car wreck, worse than a cat passing under tires (I've heard them both in person)... It was like she was being stabbed, crushed, burned and various other horrible things all at once. I mean, if her scream was all that I'd heard/seen, I'd have assumed something bad had happened. In reality, of course, I had joked that I was going to spoil the book. I didn't. GRR.

My first born child is to be named Declan Octavius Geronimo. I suppose I'll have to change my last name to secure that particular one for him, but it would be worth it.

Boycott

2007-07-13T18:38:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Bandages by Hot Hot Heat
As an angry suburban teen, I take it upon myself, from time to time, to boycott. Usually for no reason at all, or something superficial or trivial. I find it refreshing, and it permits me to be lazy without people getting mad. I just say, "I can't; I'm boycotting that."

Right now, I'm boycotting three (3) things: soda pahp, 'tatos and myspace. The gods have, in response, made it such that I'm constantly reminded (not me reminding others) that I "can't" have those things. I seem to be presented with more options for fries and a coke in the period since I began this self-deprivation than in the six months before. It's crazy. In that same vein, people have actually started posting comments on my myspace. Every day, I get the e-mail. So-and-so has left you a comment on myspace. This-and-that has sent you a message on myspace. I even put my status on facebook (I sign up for too many of these things) as my boycott list, and still, people do it. 100% tom-foolery.

Speaking of tomfoolery, shenanigans and this-and-that, I got my scores (scratch that, score) back from the AP folks today. Surprise-surprise, they had an issue with my Spanish exam and it'll be here in three weeks. Anyways, I got my physics score.

I got a three. Are you kidding me? I didn't finish it. Not even close. I got something like 55 or 60 of the multiple choice done (there were 75) and I didn't come anywhere near close to completing all seven free response questions. For some reason, I'm more angry than happy. They should have more sense than to give a lazy, no-drive, apathetic lard-ass such as myself a three. That means that some college might say that I'm somewhat knowledgable about physics, which is not the case. Shenanigans.

I think I should boycott my phone as well. I hate talking on the phone, and the seven key sticks, which is annoying when you're text messaging, and considering it has 4 of the 26 letters within.

We went uniform shopping today. If anything could leave me more bitter and jaded about anything and everything, it's that. Waking up early (though I should mention that I got up at six of my own will this morning) to go down and submit myself to an hour and a half of torture and misery. I didn't see Hostel Part 2, but I imagine one scene had a man make someone purchase school uniforms for the next year. I really need to talk to someone who was on this uniform committee, because, as with most elected officials, promises were made with no intention of any results. And I felt like a prick when they guy had me stand on a box while he chalked my pants. That sounds vulgar. Anyways, if I ever become fabulously wealthy, I will not hire a tailor, because it felt uncomfortable and snooty. Like, "I spit on ye, peon." Nonsense. Tom-foolery. Shenanigans.

Boycott list:

'Tatos
Soda Pop
Myspace
Cell Phone
Tailoring

(Just so I don't forget, neh?)

Transformers

2007-07-11T15:14:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Splendid Isolation by Pete Yorn
It seems to me that, every year, during the summer movie season, there is a movie that I find myself drooling over for quite some time. In anticipation, I change my desktop background to one from the movie and talk about it incessantly.

Then I see it, and it sucks.

I shouldn't say Transformers sucked; I just didn't like it, and it made no attempt at changing my mind.

Obviously, being that it's a movie based on a cult-franchise, Transformers was geared towards those cult-followers, but, being a big-budget summer movie, it was also geared toward the masses (an elusive villainous entity whiny suburban teens like myself whine about a fair bit) and, being based on a toy, it was also geared towards children and families (in parts, at least). A little self-evaluation reveals that I

have only ever seen one episode of the original cartoon, and that was before I began elementary school
am too self-righteous to identify with the masses and its interests
am not in the coveted 4-8 demographic... or the 9-13 one, either

As such, various references to this-and-that from the TV show, Anthony Anderson and mini-Transformers that are the Micheal Bay equivalent of Jar Jar Binks left me a tad bored. By the time stuff started exploding in a big way, I was already daydreaming (or nightdreaming, I suppose; it was like 9:30 or 10) about zombies. That's what I do when I get bored. I think about zombies. If you see me with a glazed-over look on my face, my concious is battling zombies.

Actually, I think I was dreaming about nanobots. I've been on about nanobots lately. When I finish The Stand, Harry Potter and my summer reading books ( so never) I might need to re-read Prey.

Anyways, big action scene at the end... Everyone's cheering and ooh-ah-ing and I'm thinking about shooting a microwave to kill that fucking nanobot swarm, which has currently taken the form of my dead wife.

That's how my nanobot movie will end. Stolen from an episode of Futurama and Prey, it will be the greatest ending ever.

Anyways, I was super bored. Like I told Claire earlier, it was just like Fantastic Four, which again suffered from all-the-action-at-the-end-itis. If you're an action movie, you probably oughta spread it out a bit.

And those robots' voices got on my nerves. Not Megatron and Optimus Prime (which sounds kind of redundant, no?), but all the other ones. Take a lesson from the Terminator: a quiet robot is a scary robot. And a quiet child is an acceptable child in movies. There were at least two talking children in Transformers. One said "Cool, mom!" as his car was surrounded by robocarnage and another asked a giant robot if it was the tooth fairy. This is unacceptable. Far too many movies have children like that. This is precisely what I'm talking about when I whine about movie studios pandering to the masses.

I HATE CHILDREN.

And sunburn. This ain't cool. Especially when I was told such-and-such cream would help the sunburn, when in reality, the places I applied it (shoulders) hurt the most. Thanks, jerks.

And I figured sitting in the rain might help, but those dumb cats swarmed me and left me covered in cat hair, which I think I may be allergic to, because my eyes got all watery, and it wasn't from sympathy to those cats and their sitting in the rain.

Fool Me Once... Shame On... Shame On You

2007-07-09T21:32:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Machinehead by Bush

If fooled, you can't get fooled again.

Today, I proved that statment wrong. For what is probably the hundredth time in my life, I got a sunburn today. A really, really bad sunburn.

Dear God, this is an awful sunburn.

In life, there are things worse than death; one of them is sitting in a mall surrounded by zombies waiting to die. Another is this sunburn.

Sitting in this chair is not helping.

Sixteen years of "Wear sunscreen" proved to be cromulent in the extreme, and yet, when faced with an opportunity to make a decision, I completely ignored the sage advice of my mother.

Save me, Baz Luhrmann. Save me, half-naked girl on the sunscreen bottle. And kick that little dog in the face. For ages he's been pulling your drawers down; show some decency. Whore.

Why do I subject myself to this?

I Can't Trust Garden State Any More

2007-07-03T00:55:00.001-05:00

Currently Listening To: Autumn Cannibalist by Die Mannequin

I mean, if Zach Braff is willing to do a Wendy's commercial (or twelve), what's to say that that entire movie was 100% insincere? And Scrubs too, even though I think he isn't as heavily involved in the writing there.

It's two in the morning. As I finish watching the Colbert Report for the second time, I think maybe there's a better way to spent time when staying up all night. I think I'm going to try to read some more of the Stand (110 pages down, only 990 more to go...), which will, of course, drain me of all energy and put me to sleep. Not to say that books or Stephen King are boring; I just have a habit of cruisin' for a snoozin' when I read in the basement.

I have come to the realization that I really see no benefit to living down here any more. First of all, it's almost embarassing to think that, even though I'm still in high school, I live in my mother (and father)'s basement. Second, it's really fucking scary to be down here, alone, at night, with these woods to my back. Scary, scary. Third, as much as I love my brother (though it seems like things've been strained a bit lately), living with him isn't always comfortable; two people who both want to listen to music aloud or use the big screen T.V. will inevitably clash, as will a person who wants to have people other for some boozin' and a person who doesn't want to have people over for a boozin'. I mean, we're not the same person. We've got different needs. I'm an angsty know-it-all teen, he's a know-it-all college student, which brings me to my next point: I'll be alone in this creepy basement for the next year, starting mid-August. Did I mention it's REALLY creepy? When people drive around in the cul-de-sac, the lights come through the window and it creeps me the fuck out. And then there's all these noises coming from the woods. And I get really paranoid sometimes and think people are watching me, which isn't cool when all I want to do is walk around the basement bare-ass naked.

Clive Dangerously Figures Out What's Wrong In The World Today

2007-07-01T23:08:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Blue Monday by New Order

After years of searching, I now know the root of all of my problems, all my fears, all my weaknesses...

I was ambling through the Canadian wilderness when I stumbled upon a large bear. He produced a knife and demanded the contents of my pocket. Not wishing to wait in the DMV waiting room for four hours again to get another I.D., I decided I would need to defend myself from such an adversary. The two of us sprawled for a good half-hour before I saw an opening and I leapt upon this tremendous mammal. I seized his jaw and attempted to snap it open, but as I tried to gain the proper footing in his cake hole, I noticed something strange in the footular area of my bod. I dismounted the bear, pulled out my boomstick and popped that mother in the face. I then rested, and finally came to the shocking realization: my right foot is nearly two sizes smaller than my left foot.

That's right, there is no balance in my body whatsoever, which is clearly the root of all of my problems. I figure, sawing off both feet would eliminate this imbalance and I would immediately become fabulously wealthy, immensely attractive and Persian in heritage. Until the time comes that I am of sound enough spirit to make such a decision, however, I am stuck with this unfit vessel. The Catch-22, of course, being that, were I balanced, I would be of sound-enough spirit to make such a decision, though there would be no need.

Bitchy Phone Calls

2007-07-01T16:15:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Temptation by New Order (kind of Hellogoodbye-y)

I swear to God... I hardly ever use my phone, and it seems like whenever I do, I'm being bitched about for this-or-that. Most recently, I recieved a call from a freshman girl angry because, despite on numerous occaisons saying that her sister got on my nerves, I hung out with her at drivers' ed. Yes, it was hypocritical of me to bash this girl behind her back and then talk to her when she's the only person I know; infact, I think it was worse than hypocritical, it's middle-school style two-faceness, but I suppose what I want to ask this bitchy caller (not that I would dare call her back; I don't want to put up with that shit again) is: what would she rather I do? Tell her sister to fuck off when she talks to me? Straight-up ignore her?

But I can't dish out the blame entirely; I shouldn't be running my mouth about this-or-that and talking shit, but still. And I do think it was stupid of her to tell her sister that I said that. I mean, what could make someone feel better than telling her that someone was talking shit?

And in other news, Bob had another party this weekend. Less people this time, no vomit (at least thus far; maybe I'll find some later?) but still, it's kind of annoying to be like, uprooted and have to go veg out in my parents' room. I prefer to veg in my own domain. Speaking of which, I had a little project this week. I found a spare TV (that sounds so ridiculous... like, 'I wipe my ass with fifties' kind of bitchy... spare T.V.? That's not cool), the old N64 (Goldeneye 4 lyfe) and the DVD player I had in my old room. I took them all and put the on a table in the basement in the intended playroom, which doesn't really see a whole lot of usage, except by me and my brother's drunk friends, who seem to sleep in my bed more than I do... I came downstairs this morning to get some clothes and I saw two guys in my bed. It was really bizarre, especially when one woke up and saw me, and then again when I realized I had no idea who the other guy was.

So that was my weekend, minus seeing Die Hard 4, which was phenomenal. The elevator scene was the balls, and Mary Elizabeth Winstead is a fine-lookin' lady. Then there was that tunnel scene... And the jet scene... And the alleyway scene.

So go see it. It was super schwey.

Do it for the children

Dreams (Again)

2007-06-28T08:35:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Waiting For The Sirens' Call by New Order

So I had a really weird dream last night. Short story shorter, I was enlarged by an enlarging ray, to the point that I was about seven feet tall. I got to do all kinds of stuff I usually can't because now, I looked like an adult. I drove (poorly... Very, very poorly) on my own, did some other stuff... The only problem was that I wasn't supposed to have been enlarged (don't know why), so I had to hide from people so as to not be caught. Not that I spent the entire time behind a bush; on the contrary, I interacted with a lot of people. I was just partially hidden behind things the whole time. And I was naked, but for some reason no one was bothered by that. Huge double standard. And then at one point I was trying to catch a hypnotoad but couldn't, so some kid came to help me. He whipped at it using his belt and the toad got stuck to it. Then we showed it to everyone, and they were pleased. Again, I don't know why people cared about the hypnotoad. They just did.

I suppose it's worth explaining that one, I saw an episode of Robot Chicken with a segment called "The Giant Midget" last night, and two, I'd had a conversation with my family about how I'm a baby-face (why all the college folk thought my brother was the one looking at the school). And I watched an episode of Futurama with Hypnotoad last night.

College Visits

2007-06-27T22:52:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Blue Monday by New Order

Family Guy isn't very funny, but I'm a sucker for people making fun of Bill Cosby. THE JELLO PUDDING... ZOOBA ZOOBA ZOO.

I awoke from my slumber yesterday only to be forced into the family tank, whisked off to Tennessee. We had a two-o'clock appointment at Sewanee with their admissions rep. and only a little bit of time to make me not look like shit. A small fortune at a few outlet stores and ten minutes shaving in a sleazy gas station restroom later, we were good to go. I did my best to make a semi-good impression and not make an ass of myself like I normally do, but it was all for naught, as it was assumed my brother was the one interested in the college, and his phone went off twice during the information session.

It was a really beautiful campus, though... I'd love to go there. Until yesterday, I was quite stubbornly set on going to college in a city, but I think I'd do just fine up in the woods.

And then today, we had an appointment on the complete other side of the state at Rhodes. This time, it wasn't an information session... It was an interview. So I failed at the 'not looking like an ass' thing. And once again, it was assumed that Robert was the prospective student. I need to tell that kid to put the phone away. It's going to be the end of me. But Memphis has a pyramid, and I'd apply to any school in a town with a pyramid.

I love New Order. Great, great band. "Waiting For The Sirens' Call" is probably my favorite, behind Blue Monday of course.

And I've started reading "The Stand", which is supposedly like the greatest book ever, but it's really, really long. I doubt I'll ever finish.

I mean, it's like 1130 pages. Holy crap.

Big Love

2007-06-24T22:50:00.000-05:00

Currently Listening To: Angelina by the Bravery
Big Love, aside from Heroes, is my absolute favorite show. It's just so damn entertaining... And there's a certain "can't look away" aspect to polygamy. So yeah, great show.

...Why am I talking about Big Love? Well, because I just remembered what I'll be doing tomorrow night: watching the new episode of Big Love. The new episode which happens to be "the episode". From the first episode, I could immediately sense that in the case of the oldest son on the show, there are two possible story lines:

He's gay. I mean, look at the kid and tell me it didn't come to mind.
He bones the youngest wife, who is the hottie from the end of "In The LAnd Of Women", making her the only thing worth anything in that train wreck (they aren't blood-related so it's cool...ish)

And so last week, at the end of the episode, as per usual, they had a preview of next week's episode, wherein the #1 mom, mother of the aforementioned son, opens the door of the youngest wife's house to find her son half naked. I almost cried. This is really exciting. I mean, I more interested in this than how to stop an exploding man.

I lied. Polygamy is awesome. Especially when it's three good-looking women and the fountain of testosterone known as Bill Paxton. Fuck Chuck Norris, I'm all about Bill Paxton. I carry a 5 x 7 picture of him in wallet, just in case. That's right, if by some miracle I find myself in a girl's bed, I have not a condom but a picture of Bill Paxton.

There's some logic in there somewheres.

And fuck "Hey There Delilah". That shit's so corny and shit. That chick needs to find a man with a penis.