day after May Day! day after May Day!

A Poem for the lusty month of May:

May I have your attention please!

Will the owner of a pale blue pair of pants with nobody inside them please call the operator?

The owner of a pale blue pair of pants with nobody inside them, please call the operator.

Thank you.

May day. May Day! Day Time! Day Time!

And the end was nigh.


Also-I have tickets to see Cats on Tuesday but I won't be able to attend so if you want them email me and put Caticketism in the subject line. The body of your email should read:

Esteemed Colleague:

I am heretofore expressing deep interest in the tickets thusly mentioned thusly in your previous post on that day of our lord which presented itself verily as May 2nd, 2007. I wish heartily and with the utmost earnestness to see this "Cats" of which I have heard so much. Jellicle? What a delight! Memories,etcetera and so forth. Please, with haste and dutiful sense of efficiency, allow me to purchase said tickets so that I might see the dancing kitties. I will be forever in your debt, dear fellow, and if I should ever find myself on the lucky receiving end of a passport to such glee as these tickets to see Cats is sure to be, you will be the first on my list of contacts.

In anticipation of gratitude,

Ever your servant in all matters and dealings from this day forward,

(Your name here)

P.S. Boobs (this is the secret code word so that I'll know you are serious)

Oh wait, I don't have tickets to see Cats. That was a god damned lie.

NSFW

None Such Fawn War.

or Not Safe Work this is.
http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1756809

If you haven't checked out any of the Michael Showalter Showalter on collegehumor.com yet, you should. This is the latest and I find it to be the hilariest. Also, here are some gifts and purchase I made recently.

So my mother and father brought me these items: A hammer, because I love to hammer away, happy as an old hammer dog; a tape measurerurer;green rope, enough to hang myself with; a puzzle of a castle built by a madman obsessed with swans; wood screws; nuts and bolts; 2 screwdrivers, one pink and one baby blue; two picture frames and wall mount thingies; and not pictured, the large print version of Doomsday (my dad bought it for me after I explained the plot to him (see post from a couple weeks ago)), a book about A Chorus Line and the soundtrack to go with it, and this book that I bought my mom for Christmas called The History of Love. I then made these purchases over the weekend: Green Shoes; American flag turtle t-shirt; Foxy Brown t-shirt; Blue Shirt; Stripey shirt; weird bowling shirt(not pictured here). All in all, a good weekend for consumerism and the realization of the American Dream.

Stage Door Canteen with Ray Bolger

Ray Bolger! Who? Ray Bolger!

Dr. Schmoctor, paging Dr. Schmoctor.

This Doctor just called me, I swear to got, and asked me if Mr. So and So up on the third floor has had his "tummy films" done yet. Tummy films.

New Yucks

My parents don't believe in naming children before they are born. With my brother and sister and I they wanted to wait to see what we looked like before they gave us names so that they could give us something appropriate. I was born with a full beard, wearing slacks and suspenders so when my mom asked my dad what name I looked like he said, "A man, duh."

My sister's name is beautiful blue-eyed super-race and my brother's is fetal alcohol syndromeo.

One of our deepest darkest family secrets is that I had a baby brother but he died mysteriously just a few days after he was born. His name was Half-Black Milkman.

Mandates and Imperatives

Hey there. You there! You with the stars in your eyes. You should rent Half Nelson. Ryan Gosling called me up last night and asked me to marry him but I had to say no because he is Canadian and is probably only after me for my citizen status.

From the AP

Porn Slipped Into Wash. Time Capsule
Friday, April 27, 2007

Bondage File
Read more weird news in the Bondage File.
sfgate_get_fprefs();
(04-27) 14:11 PDT Seattle (AP) --
There were a few surprises for the University of Washington's Class of 1957 when they opened a time capsule sealed 50 years ago.
Among audiotapes and copies of the yearbook and school newspaper were 1980s-era porn, a condom and some dirty underwear.
Alumni opened the capsule earlier this week in preparation for a public unveiling Saturday during a celebration of the 50th anniversary of the university's communications program. The capsule had been placed in an interior wall of the then-new Communications Building in 1957.
The capsule is being replaced by another created by a student-faculty team.
"The good news is that all the things that were in there are still there," said Jerry Baldasty, chairman of the Department of Communication. "The interesting news is that some other things were added."
There aren't any suspects in the case. But it was located outside the offices of The Daily — the campus newspaper — and it's assumed someone from the paper was responsible for the revisionism, said communication alumni and development manager Victoria Sprang.
The new capsule will be filled with digital media with a focus on "communication from a global perspective," said Coma Te, a senior among six students who created the new capsule.

This gave me a funny idea for a routine I can work into my stand up jokes set. I would call it, "Future Jokes" and I would describe a series of scenarios that would be funny only in the future. I haven't thought of any yet but I'm sure to.

Betty Frockin' Crocker.

I've uploaded a bunch of pictures to my flickr page but here are three of my new apartment.

This is my slightly askew "living room."This is where the magic happens. I still need a bed frame. I am rocking the old box springs on the floor look, which is great if you can pull it off. And I think I have.

And this is the beautiful and spacious kitchen. Again, there are more on my flickr page, which there is a link to on your left. Your other left, dipshit.

I have had the busiest day ever! First, hold on to your hats, I had Spanish Class! That was fun. After Spanish class I went home and listened to the great song Steve and Marigold made for me. Email me or post a comment if you want to listen to it because I can't figure out how to put sound clips up on this thing. I can email it to you! Then I made some awesome songs of my own, and ditto for those if you want to hear them. I can email them to you! I made one for Marigold and Steve, one for Andy Rydzewski, one very special one just for Marigold which was a duet between herself and myself and is so full of Christ's love you'll burst, and then some other stuff that was mostly for my ears only.

Then I went to my other classes and to my grandmother's house and then I went birthday present shopping for my mother whose birthday it is tomorrow. I didn't get anything really great for her so I decided I would bake her a brownie cake thing. Which I did. But that is another story.

Oh, wait, that is this story! So I don't know if you realize this, but I am a single gal living la vida sola in the most awesome ways. One awesome way that single girls live is by becoming fascinated by cooking and eating and food and dieting and calories. For instance, did you know that a serving of asparagus, which is about 1/2 of a cup according to my little book, is only 20 calories???? 20 Calories! Asparagus is my 2nd favorite vegetable, second only to Artichokes. (Which, by the way, are also very low in calories.) So I went out and bought myself a bunch of asparagus (and two artichokes but I already ate those last week) and I made this lovely dish tonight.

You're probably saying, "That's not so spectacular." No, it isn't. But I'm not a big cooker and this is like the greatest thing ever. This is about 2 cups of asparagus which is about 80 calories. I put a couple of table spoons of light cream cheese on it and salt and pepper which brings it up to about 180 calories. And I was so full afterwards!

In addition to this culinary feat, I also made this:

For my mother, for her birthday. Those things on the top are birthday candles. She is turning 10 years old, as you can see by the number of birthday candles. The candles do not have boobs on them. That is an unfortunate resemblance that shows up mostly in this picture. Those are pink cupcakes with cherries on them. Okay, they are boobs. You caught me.

Before you starting thinking I am some kind of Martha Stewart, as I'm sure you are, I also made this:

This was the rest of the brownie mix. You see, I only have a small convection oven which I had never used before so I wasn't really sure how it was going to work. Turns out, it words great for smaller things like heart shaped brownies. Larger things, like 7.5 inch by 7.5 inch brownie pans, not so much. My original idea was to have this on the bottom and then the heart one on the top and then put icing all over both, which would be the icing on the cake. Only it is brownies, not cake. You would think I would hide this picture with shame and throw this thing away but I am totally bringing it tomorrow when I meet my mom because this way when my nephew and grandma are jealous of my mom's brownie I can pull this out and say, "See? Now everyone gets some!" and they won't make fun of it because it is this or nothing. Also, I wanted to show off the plate that it is on because you might be able to make out the year 1983 and the name Amanda on the bottom. This is because I made this plate, well, I drew on this plate in 1983. You can't see the beautiful rainbow underneath but you can imagine it. All I drew was rainbows for about 10 years straight. I think those red squiggly lines on the sides are supposed to be birds. Either that or I wanted to go to McDonald's.

Finally Died, and Notes on becoming an Alcoholic OR: Notes on: Lloyd Braun

I wrote this yesterday morning in my car in the parking lot at school before a parking copper got the best of me and scared me away with his little orange book of tickets:

I finally died... my hair. What'd you think? That someone finally died? You fool. You damn fool. I had been letting it go gray for fun and then I realized that my idea of fun was really stupid. Lets just say that I began to feel really old. You know you are getting old when people are no longer surprised at how much gray you have in your hair. They barely mention it...

Then I wrote this late last night. I think it is pretty self explanatory:

You know when you've drank a little bit and things are so fucking profound! They are profoundly funny or profoundly sad and not much in between. You know what I'm talkin' bout. Talkin' bout Down Town! Talkin' Bout levitation. Talkin' Bout Zanita what's her name that my sister used to run with that she said sort of smelled and was weird and claimed to be able to levitate. I wonder what ever happened to her? Probably the most genuinely interesting person my sister has ever known and to think it all happened on mulburry street. Mulberry? Tuney will know and will most likely correct me so I will preemtively say thank you, tuney, and I will tip my hat, so to speak, at her knowledge of Seusisms. Really, the only reason I think she even had children was to brush up on her her Seusisms. And her children are thankless. Oh how like a serpents tooth it is. See? I don't need to have kids. Shakespeare told me what its like already and I totally believe him because that guy Bloom or whoever the guy is who loves Shakespeare so much said that Shakespeare wrote the book on what we are like. We humans.

Lloyd Braun. That's why I started writing this. Seinfeld. In case you weren't sure or in case it was on the tip of your tongue. Anywho, speaking of drinking a glass of whine or two (not three, yet) on a Sunday night and wondering if I'll ever truly know who any of the commentors on Mick Lasalle's blog REALLY are, like really, you know REALLY, and these thoughts start running through my head. First of all, Seinfeld, on wine, is Profoundly Funny. Capitalized for emphasis. Like Civil Rights, which I didn't know should be capitalized until recently when I didn't capitalize it in a brilliant paper I wrote and this error was corrected.

LLoyd Braun. The names used in Seinfeld alone are profoundly funny. And I was going to say some other stuff about Michael Richards and how he lives in a different world then we do and so can not truly be held accountable for his rantings, and that I believe this because I have known, personally, intimately, people like that who just don't live where we live.
I am loath to go back and read what I've written since I'm afraid that I'll start to edit and there is NOTHING worse than drunken editing. Can you even imagine? I wonder, at times, if drunken writers simply write drunk and edit sober or if they ever write sober and edit drunk. Now that I think about it, perhaps the latter would be the better. What do you think? I have class at nine a.to the m. tomorrow morning and it is 12 to the 16 am right now. Oh yeah! Now I remember. Lloyd Braun. That's why I was even writing this. Jerry got some Chinese gum from LLoyd Braun and I totally remembered, I had a sensory memory of, Chinese rice gum. Has anyone ever had this? I think I had in San Francisco when I went there the summer after 7th grade with my two best friends Erin and Leah. I can taste it right now... What I would like you to do is give me some other iconoclastic, that isn't the right word, memorable Seinfeld names. Like... Deloris. Whenever I hear the name Deloris I think, "Rhymes with Clitoris." And then I think "Mulva." And then I think of Sheila and the million times she liked to lecture people on the difference between the vulva and the vagina and that when most people talked about the vagina what they were really referring to was the vulva. I mean, like, constantly she would lecture people about this. She was like the soup nazi, only in regards to female genitalia. Oh Sheila. You came and you brought me a turkey. On my vacation from workey.

Which reminds me. I left several crazy, yet sober, messages to friends and foes alike this morning using Google Talk. Talk about a revolution! Talkin' bout Down Town! Google talk is a marvel for a person like me who makes verboseness into an art form the likes of which have not been seen since (famous talker/orator person fill-in the blank here). The only person I could think of was Ken Nordeen because of the Spoken Word albums my dad had when I was a kid. Marya, do you know that 90% of what I write is only understood by you like when we play pictionary or taboo? Do you know that? Seriously? Because you remember everything I remember. Even the stuff that you weren't privy to, you can kind of figure out. I am drunk right now, so don't hold this against me later, but I really appreciate having a sister who knows everything I know especially after living with a brother for 3 years who seems to know very little about what I know. I am physically having to restrain myself from deleting that last part because mushyness makes me physically ill.

Lloyd Braun.... Dammit... I think I missed the rest of the episode! The one before this was the sponge-worthy one. That was pretty freakin' funny. Am I spelling Braun correctly? Maybe it is brawn? I doubt it. We aren't talking about paper towels here. Delete! Backspace!!! Oh if you only knew. I wrote recently in my creative writing class that I believe the backspace key is the physical manifestation of internalized societal censorship. I do believe this. I get genuinely upset when I use it for anything other than correcting spelling or grammar mistakes. Am I alone in this? Also, I wish I had more comments. I know. That's really lame to say, but have I mentioned lately that I am nearly done with my second glass of wine? Quite nearly. I think I might get a third.... thrid. Thrididiidifid. You'll know us by the trail of the dea.... you'll know if I'm on my third glass of whine if I start making Freudian slips replacing wine with whine. Ha!!! You'll know us by the trail of our dead or whatever that band's name is is a really cool name of a bland. band. Bland... another Freudian slip? Can one type freudian slips? If so, even more evidence that the backspace key is the physical manifestation of internalized societal censorship and another reason why google talk is so great. I can't backspace what I say out loud!!! You know what I'm saying? Oh God! Okay, so I had told myself a while back that I wanted to have at least or no more than one drunk blog post a month. I figured this way I could avoid alcoholism and yet take advantage of verboseness. Bad idea.


I will reiterate... Bad idea.

Strange Times At SOU

The newspaper that my brother is an editor for broke this crazy story about a fellow student of mine. I'll link to the various articles but I'll give you the short version in case you are lazy. It totally reminds me of the movie Election. This student was running for Student Body President and on Thursday the school held a vigil for the victims of the Virginia Tech badness. She got up and apparently gave a very teary speech about how her cousin was one of the victims. Turns out, after the paper did some fact checking, that her cousin wasn't a victim. First she gave one name and then said that her cousin had to change it because she was in the Federal Witness Protection Program, which, to me, screams that she was lying. Then, she gave the name that her cousin is now using which was actually a name of one of the victims but still, was not her cousin. Here is the latest story that covers pretty much everything I just said:

http://www.dailytidings.com/2007/0421/stories/0421_confess.php

Here is another that pretty much says the same thing but is by a different writer:

http://www.dailytidings.com/2007/0421/stories/0421_confess_side.php

and here is the editorial about the whole thing that I think my brother might have written. I'm not sure about that though. It might have been his boss.

http://www.dailytidings.com/2007/0421/stories/0421_edit_freeman.php

Weird, wild stuff.

Happy Birthday Adolf Lu Hitler R. Marak

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adolf_Lu_Hitler_Marak

This might be the weirdest thing I've learned in a while. In the interest of noting that today is 4/20 without sounding like a stoner or a fan of Hitler I went on wikipedia to find out what else 4/20 is famous for. I found the previous link. Click on it. Do.

P.S. I am burnt out. I am tired. I am feeling overwhelmed. Last night I had a dream within a dream that were all full of anxiety themes but I can't remember exactly what they were about except that I told my mom and dad that "It's okay that dream I was having was just a stress dream but this dream isn't." And then some more stressful things happened.

Notes On: Columbine II:The Wrath of Cho

For those of you who feel so inclined, I got this link from Frank who I have now mentioned 2 days in a row. If I wasn't gay you'd think I was in love with him. Strike that, reverse it. If he wasn't gay you'd think I was in love with me. Yes, that's better. This is the guy's play. It is only 10 pages long and they are very short pages. Do you think my creative writing teacher would think it was funny if I turned this in for my next assignment?

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2007/0417071vtech1.html

My next assignment is to write this cheesy "I remember" thing. We have to write 20 "I remembers" which means like, "I remember when cheese was cheese and men were men and never the twain would meat." I just made that one up. But they are just supposed to be like one liner type of deals without a whole lot of self reflection tacked on to it. I think I'll just write them right now and then I can always change them later.

1. I remember when this crazy guy shot up this school in Virginia the other day.
2. I remember stilts.
3. I remember the sound of a skate board on the sidewalk suddenly going over a grate.
4. I remember the way Mr. Gioradino always smelled of pipe tobacco. I don't remember how to spell Gioradino.
5. I remember the constant shoulder and neck pain of the strongly peer suggested one strap back pack mandate.
6. I remember lots of parks
7. I remember when the pipes would freeze and electric heaters, electric blankets, and wood stoves.
8. I remember falling down the stairs before they were carpeted.
9. I remember giving the dog a bath.
10. I remember watching ants forever.
11. I remember leaf forts in anticipation of snow forts.
12. I remember the high dive.
13. I remember heads-up-seven-up.
14. I remember the multi-purpose room and the parachute games and The Farmer in the Dell.
15. I remember taco salad on Cinco de Mayo.
16. I remember cribbage tournaments.
17. I remember the science fair.
18. I remember lots of sunburns.
19. I remember the pile of Hamm's beer cans in the neighbor's yard and the sound of the crack of the can against the big red plastic bat in a game of Hamm's beer can baseball.
20. I remember waking up in the middle of the night with Box-Elder bugs crawling on my face in the summer.

Salon

So Frank (aka avantard) always links to these great salon articles on his blog so of course now I have to read it all the time. I get an email that tells me whats in it and time after time the main thing that I read are these letters to their advice columnist Cary Tennis. I think this guy should win a freaking Pulitzer Prize in Advice Columnation. Columnistics. Every letter I've read has been very well written and thought provoking and interesting and poses some kind of truly different and difficult problem. And then this Tennis guy replies with this very long well thought out responses. I don't always agree with them, like this one he wrote back to this 21 guy who wants to buy a gun and has thought of every reason under the sun as to why he shouldn't and why he wants to and has really given it some very serious thought, weighing his personal fascination with the history of weapons with his liberal leanings. At the end of his letter I thought to myself, gosh, this is the only person on earth who should own a gun. He weighs every possible good and bad outcome with such conscientiousness I was convinced that gun in his hands could do no wrong. Tennis said, after a lot of good reasoning, that he shouldn't buy a gun and pretty much convinced me. But these letters! Man! These are real existential problems! Here is a link to the latest. I don't know if it will work.

http://www.salon.com/mwt/col/tenn/2007/04/18/new_yorker/?source=newsletter

Backfired, Bone Tired, Back Beat, The Word is on the Street.

You might say that this dog is the biggest dog in the world because he is over 7 feet tall:

I think this dog might be

click --> http://urbanlegends.about.com/library/n_hercules_worlds_biggest_dog.htm

Actually, it turns out, that picture was a hoax. A hoax that is a few years old, I guess, but it has been passed on to me from some people at work. Still, the real dog in the picture above is pretty freakin' big! And I bet the fake photoshop dog is still very large.

Speaking of big dogs, about a month ago a white man in a black mask jumped out of the bushes and tried to attack me while I was walking to the parking garage where I work. Being a quick thinker, I said, "Don't rape me, I have a penis. I'm a chick with a dick." That stopped him in his tracks long enough for me to kick him in the gonadial region and steal his wallet. What a dope! I obviously have a vagina! I used his credit cards to buy a boat and lots of electronic equipment. I also stole his identity to get a home loan. Turns out he had way better credit than me. The only downside is that I made a complaint against him and now I have to register as a sex offender.

My google setting theme is Tea House like in The Tea House of the August Moon. Which was a play and I guess a movie too.

What is your google theme? If you don't have one yet, you might as well give up on everything.

I saw the opening night of my Dad's Hit Musical, The State of Jefferson! this last Friday, the 13th. OOOOOOOhhhh. Nothing unlucky happened to me unless you count having to talk to a million people who don't remember me and keep calling me Marya. "Oh, you're the youngest." Yes. I am the youngest. Whatshername. The child that time forgot.

Seeing this show brought back all sorts of memories of the summer that they did it last. It was the summer I turned 13 and my sister was in the show so she must have been 19? Almost 20. It was the best summer ever. All my friends were gone. Dead Leah was at her Dad's for the summer in Fresno, Erin was at ballet school or something. Jeff was at his Dad's for the summer. All my energy and time was spent either with on the phone with one of these three people so when they were all gone I found myself with an incredible amount of free time. I was doing a show myself that summer, Charlotte's Web, so I had some contact with friends and other kids and social interactions but mainly I read and listened to music and wrote letters. I read Anne McCaffrey's Harper Hall Trilogy and listened to a lot of Enya and Indigo Girls. Now whenever I hear Enya I automatically think of dragons. Marya must have been working on the train that summer. I think that was the summer that Myles went to Majuro because that was also the summer, near the end, that I started playing soccer and he was my coach. Maybe we were all at home that summer. That would be weird. I have few memories of my brother and sister and I all living in the same house since most of that time was when I was 6 and under. Anyway, that was my best summer. I still have all the letters I got from my friends who were gone. They are so retarded.

No Fucking Cat, No Fucking Cradle

This picture of an asshole made me laugh the first time I saw it. Or read it, or whatever. It still makes me laugh. Maybe its because most books you read when you are a kid and preteen don't really ever make you laugh. Maybe that's why Vonnegut was so beloved by teenagers and young people in general. Sometimes people ask me who my favorite author is and I think, "Vonnegut." But I always say something else. I always feel so sort of bad but like I should have a more serious answer. Like when Steve said one time that he isn't as much into They Might Be Giants because the people who are really into them are annoying. That's sort of how I feel about Vonnegut. He is great, the people who are super super into him are kind of annoying. I never wanted to be one of those people but I enjoy meeting other secret Vonnegut fans and talking to them. I think Cat's Cradle is my favorite.

Easter egg hunt in Ashland

I have so much to say

First of all, watch this video of my questionably racist nephew being interviewed by one of the guys who my brother works with. Who happens to be black.

Second of all, Sonofabastard commented that I should check out this Christopher Buckley Book Doomsday. So I did. Son of a Bastard! Christopher Buckley totally stole my idea!

A week or two back I wrote this somewhat facetious diatribe aimed toward the stupid boomers on Mick LaSalle's blog:

Oh jesus christ, here come the boomers and their self obsessive love for their own generation. Why, I was just telling my grandmother this afternoon that all boomers, those born between 1946 and 1964, should be euthanized when they turn 65 to ensure the future of Truth, Justice, The American Way. Oh, and stop buying so much crap, boomers! No one will feel sorry for you when you have not saved for your retirement and no longer have social security but bought brand new cars constantly throughout your 30's 40's 50's and beyond. And stop eating! You won't pay for my insulin but I'm going to have to pay for your heart disease medication and your five way bypasses! Son of a Bitch! I can't stand you all. Tell Oliver Stone to go crawl under a rock! Nobody's perfect indeed. You ruined this country!! My generation gave you the internet! What are you going to leave us? Credit Card debt and student loans for educations that in no way guarantee any kind of gainful employment!

Its true, I was telling my grandmother that and she and my uncle and both of my parents, who just barely miss the boomer starting date, all whole-heartedly agree with my assertion that they should all be killed when they turn 65. So here I am, a soon to be 29 year old blogger shooting off my mouth saying ridiculous things that I sort of actually believe and then stupid Christopher Buckley writes this book.

From Publishers Weekly[Signature] Reviewed by Jessica Cutler

It's the end of the world as we know it, especially if bloggers are setting the national agenda. In his latest novel, Buckley imagines a not-so-distant future when America teeters on the brink of economic disaster as the baby boomers start retiring. Buckley takes on such pressing (however boring) topics as Social Security reform and fiscal solvency, as does his protagonist. And get this: she's a blogger.Buckley's heroine is "a morally superior twenty-nine-year-old PR chick" who blogs at night about the impending Boomsday budget crisis. Of course, "she was young, she was pretty, she was blonde, she had something to say." She has a large, doting audience that eagerly awaits her every blog entry. And her name? Cassandra. And the name of her blog? Also Cassandra. Of course, Buckley doesn't let his allusion get by us:"She was a goddess of something," another character struggles to remember, which gives his heroine the opportunity to educate us about the significance of her namesake."Daughter of the king of Troy. She warned that the city would fall to the Greeks," she explains. "Cassandra is sort of a metaphor for catastrophe prediction. This is me. It's what I do." So Cassandra, doing what she does, starts by calling for "an economic Bastille Day" and her minions take to destroying golf courses in protest. Cassandra grabs headlines and magazine covers, and the president starts wringing his hands over what she might blog about next. Her follow-up: a radical but tantalizingly expedient solution to that most vexing of issues, the Social Security problem—Cassandra proposes that senior citizens kill themselves in exchange for tax breaks. Buckley, author of Thank You for Smoking, shows great imagination as he fires his pistol at the feet of his straw women and men. In 300-plus pages, though, it would be nice if he had found a way to endear us to at least one of his characters. Yes, we know that Washington is "an asshole-rich environment," as one puts it, but some Tom Wolfe–style self-loathing might be good for characters who use the word touché. Full disclosure: I'm a blogger of Cassandra's generation, and at times the totally over-the-top, relentlessly us-against-them scenario reminded me that I was reading a book written by someone not of the blogging generation, someone who Cassandra would want put down. Oh, the irony in these generationalist feelings. Then again, maybe that's exactly Buckley's point.

I think I'm going to sue. I just hope he doesn't sue me for actually being the embodiment of one of his characters.

Ether Bunnies, Ether Rabbits. Consumption be done?

Overheard by myself at the Big Lots on Friday:

Lady customer to cashier - "I'm just here to get pads (lifts up her feminine hygiene product for all to see) because I'm on my period. I'm bleeding. Yep."

Also, I read this blurb on the cover of a book called "Miss Misery."

"This is the Emo Fight Club."

What the fuck?

I took ever so many Easter pictures today. I'm going to stick them all up on Flickr later this evening so watch out for that. I forgot to take any pictures of my apartment though so I'll have to do that later. I am mostly all unpacked and organized except for my knick-knacks and bricka-bracks of which I have too many. Tooooo Toooo Many. I should get rid of some. They all have sentimental value though, you see.

Also, I saw that Beatrix Potter movie and I really liked it. It was very very very sickeningly sweet but it still made me cry like three times. I think I am becoming a lady because movies can make me cry so much easier than they used to. Also, I'm on my period. I'm bleeding. Yep. (Actually that is a lie.)

Bunnies are cute. Ewen McGregor is a perfect human being. Cute Bunnies + Ewen McGregor = Bestest Cutest Movie in the World. (I wish Bridget Jones hadn't made so many weird faces all the time though.)

Things I have been up to since my last post

Sunday - April Fool's Day!

Moved. I'll put some pictures up of my new place as soon as it is presentable and as soon as I find the batteries for my camera. Thanks to mumsy, popsy, brother, and nephew for helping me in this endeavor. It took us just under 6 hours to move everything I own some 10-15 miles south of where I was living. I think that's gotta be some kinda record, eh? I worked Sunday night and was so exhausted I could barely stand or think or do anything. Luckily, my job doesn't require any standing, thinking, or the doing of anything.

Monday-First day of the Spring Quarter!

Attended classes. I have Biology and Spanish on Mondays. I was done by 11am and walked ACCROSS THE STREET to my new apartment. Oh, and did I mention that I walked ACCROSS THE STREET to get to classes that morning and that I only had to leave like 10 minutes early and then I was still 5 minutes early for class? That's right. I continued to unpack and put stuff away and clean, etc, on Monday afternoon and then I went to work Monday night. I had a very long conversation with Steve and Marigold over the Google talk thing which is totally awesome and you should totally check it out. yeah. Steve and I had a lot of things to discuss and Marigold had to tell me some gross funny story about her dad and this guy with genital warts. Huck screamed bloody murder the entire time.

Tuesday-April 3rd

Attended classes again. This time it was Spanish and then a long break between classes where I went home and did some more unpacking. After that I went to my creative writing class which was sort of crazy. We got our first assignment which I had an insane amount of fun doing over the past couple of days. The teacher is freakish. Then I had my senior capstone class which only meets once a week. I have to do some kind of project. I used to know what I wanted to do but I think I changed my mind after going to the first class and finding out what some other people are doing. I think I was making it too hard and too time consuming. Tuesdays I don't have to work so I came home and ate dinner and watched American Idol and House and drank a glass of wine and unpacked and just had myself a gay old time.

Wednesday - April 4th

Attended classes. Biology and Spanish again and then my Bio Lab which sounds like it will be kind of easy this time. Not that it wasn't last time, but more so this time I think. Then I drove to Medford, visited with my mother and my abuelita and my nephew and Chachi Wachi at my brother's house. Then I went to work. Worky Work Work. As Steve and Marigold found out on Monday when I talked to them for so long while I was at work, I don't actually do a lot of work at work. We just kind of do busywork stuff and get our homework done and cover for each other's lunches and every once in while we have a little rush of people or phone calls and then its just more sitting around and chatting and looking at videos online and doing homework. I have such a great life.

Today

I went to Spanish and Creative writing today. The writing teacher was 10 minutes late and then he told us to go to the library, make a copy of something we like in a book or whatever, and then write about a page on why we like it. Then we had to leave and have it turned in by 3:50 today. I copied a page out of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf?" and turned mine in at 3:00 and then went to work early. Now I'm here at work, typing this. There. Now you are all caught up.

Jokes I made up.

I heard that the surviving members of The Doors are getting the band back together again. I went to audition to be their new lead singer but I didn't make the band. They told me, "You'd actually make a better window."

I seems like a lot of dead rock stars, like Jim Morrison, died from choking on their own vomit. I don't know about you but when my mom would serve me up a big bowl of steaming hot vomit and I would start to gobble it down she would always say, "Don't eat so fast! You're going to choke!" Thats how I've lived this long, I guess. I chew my vomit the recommended 30 times before I swallow it.

Heroes in a Half Shell! Turtle Power!

Today I posted this on the Mick LaSalle blog because I am one of those crazy people who posts things on newspaper websites now. I have become a modern day letter to the editor writer. One of those wackjobs. I've always admired those people for their intense relationship with their media. Anywho, this is what I commented:

"Speaking of The View... oh, wait, we weren't. Now we are. Speaking of The View, today Rosy et all weighed in on the Elizabeth Edwards Cancer Edwards Campaign issue and Joy expressed disbelief at the fact that many Americans believe in a literal interpretation of the bible. I enjoyed both of these conversations because they both speak to the fact that Liberals are still fairly of touch with a lot of America. I meet people all the time who are shocked to find out that there are many many people who believe Noah actually had that arc and managed to put all the animals into it. X2. Additionally, many people will not see Edwards as a standbyyourman kind of gal but rather as a woman who would choose to take part in a campaign instead of spending time with her children in what might be her last days. This may not play well in the heartland. Not that she has much of a choice. She is damned if she do and you know the rest."

I wanted to expound on this a little bit because when I said that I had met "many many people who are shocked" I started to think about to mostly my college days when I would meet people from southern california or the bay area and be somewhat glad and also somewhat snooty at what I thought was a mind set that was foreign to me. Especially when it came to the liberal minded kids, almost all of whom were at Humboldt anyway. On the one hand, I was so glad to meet such people as I had read about their existence and seen evidence of them on TV and knew of them within my own family but had met very few growing up in Yrethra. On the other hand, I became more and more proud of my hillbilly white trash exposure/existence so much so that I would look at this "NorCal" and "SoCal" people with quite a lot of disdain, often humming a few bars of my dad's song, "Hey Hey, They're Up From L.A."

Hey, Hey,
They're up from L.A.
To seal off our woods
And to ruin our day
Singing Hey, Hey,
They're a bunch of damn fakes
It's the garden of Eden and they are the snakes

Their children are rotten
They disobey rules
And they're sending them up
Just to fill up our schools
They've got strange diseases
And new kinds of bugs
And they're willing to share them
Right along with their drugs!
Singing Hey Hey
They're a bunch of damn fakes
It's the garden of Eden and they...are...the...sssssssssssnakes!

When I was a kid and listened to people's cheers in Yreka when they heard this song I always thought I was in on an ironic joke because my dad was really making fun of the people cheering in disgust and hatred for Southern California people who movie way way up to Northern California and Oregon.

When I got to college I became one of those small town people who hate the L.A. transplants trying to change the way things are done up north. So sorry, to my SoCal and "NorCal"(bay area) friends who I looked down upon whenever you would open your mouths. Sorry about that.

Anyway, why was I talking about this? Oh yeah, because some of these SoCal people are the ones I remember being surprised when I would telling them that most of the friends I had in high school and many many of my teachers took the stories in the bible quite literally. I always like to tell the story about my Senior AP English teacher who explained one day, when we were discussing issues of incest in works like Oedipus Rex versus Antigone, that there was a time when incest was not as taboo as it is now. "After all," she explained with the seasoned air of authority that only a high school teacher can pull off, "There must have been a lot of incest at some point since we all came from Adam and Eve." Aside from me and two other students in the class, Peter Bendix and Trish Kimbell (to their credit) not one other student, of the smartest kids our town had to offer, took any exception to this statement. It was a fact to probably 75% of the student body at my high school.

So I was just wondering, the people who read this, did you ever have a time in your life when this was a surprising notion? Or, like me, was the surprising notion that there were people in the world who didn't believe in this ridiculous notion of the earth actually being created in 7 literal days?

Oh and also, you can talk about the Elizabeth Edwards thing if you feel so inclined. I don't know. I've heard some people say she doesn't have very much time to live and others saying she had 5-10 years. If it was five to ten I would say, of course, campaign with Edwards. He is great. If he wins the primaries I will be happy with him as a candidate and will happily vote for him. If it is more like a year or something, I don't know. Her kids are very young. She won't regret it because she'll be dead but her kids might be a little bit bummed out that they didn't get to spend as much time with her as they could have especially since their dad, if he becomes president, will not be able to spend much time with them either. I'm going to see if that clip is up on youtube yet.

Spaces:A Poll

Dear Gentle Readers,

I have some troubling information to report. This might not be new to you all but It is the first I've ever heard of it. I read in the November 2006 issue of The Atlantic (the central perk of hospital job is the endless supply of magazines I would normally never pick up) that the standard of publishing whether in print or on the web is to have just one space after a sentence. "This wasn't always the case." Well, that made me feel better, since I've always put two spaces after my sentences, but then I read on. "You can find extra space between sentences in books from as late as the 1960s." Since the 1960s? Really? Why, if it has been the professional standard since the 1960s, was I taught to always put two spaces at the end of a sentence? Am I the only one? Granted, my typing class was taken my freshmen year of high school (which is now 14 years ago!) and was taught by a football coach but... How come I never knew this? I think it would be exceedingly difficult to try to break this habit. Maybe that's why I could never bring my WPM past 80 even though I think I type really really fast. Maybe those faster typers are just cheating by only putting one space after their sentences. This would slow me down at first, as I have been accustomed to the two spaces. But soon I would get used to it and like a flash I would be typing. Like a flash. It might put me up to 81 or 82 words a minute. Maybe. You never know. It makes me look back at this typing test I took at a temp agency a few years back. The lady said, make sure you only put one space at the end of your sentences, the test will be scored incorrectly if you don't. I was very upset by this. Why build a typing test that tests people all wrong? Turns out, I was the one in the wrong. On the other hand, think of all the papers I've written that were shorter than my peers simply because I added a space where they only had one. Ha Ha! Losers!

Well, I'm Off to the Robot Parts Factory.

Every day when my nephew is over and I leave for work I tell him, "Well, I'm off to the robot parts factory!" And sometimes he asks, "Why don't you ever bring me home a robot from your factory?" He used to ask that, at least. But not anymore because I always reply, "Because we only make the robot parts. Not the actual robots."

Sometimes I like to go read the McSweeney's "Lists" because sometimes they are funny. Every time I read them I feel a little disappointed because none are as good as this one about robots. So I go back and read the robot one every time. And I laugh. Every time. Here it is for you.

JokesMade by Robots,for Robots.
BY J. ALEX BOYD
- - - -
A rabbi, an Arab, a robot, and a Catholic priest walk into a bar. Only the robot exits.

A robot walks into a pharmacy. The pharmacist asks him if he'd like anything. The robot replies, "A soul."

How do you stop a robot from destroying you and the rest of civilization?You don't.
"Waiter! Waiter! What's this robot doing in my soup?""It looks like he's performing human tasks twice as well, because he knows no fear or pain."

Knock knock.Who's there?A robot.Oh, shit.

What's the difference between a regular robot and a killer robot?The gnawing jeers of men.

What's a robot's favorite cereal?Rob-os.(Note: Rob-os are made of the tears of human children.)

Little Susie tosses a clock out the window. A robot inquires, "Why did you do that?" She replies, "I wanted to see time fly!" The robot says, "Ah ... A perfect subject for elimination," and shoots her with a laser beam through the face.

Why did the robot order a milkshake?To blend in with the general human population, making it easier to infiltrate society and—in time—conquer it.

Why was six afraid of seven?Because seven was a robot.

Great Great Great Robot Jokes.

One time I took little Jack to my actual job at the hospital. I took him to use the bathroom which has this very handy dandy automatic air freshener thing on the wall. It sprayed air freshener while we were in the bathroom and he was very fascinated by this. Later, he was trying to explain it to his dad. He said that we should get one of those things that sprays smells. And I said, "What the hell are you talking about?" or something like that. And he said, "You know, like in the bathroom at the Robot Parts Factory." Ah, yes, of course.

The Pond

I don't know anyone in England, do I?

Not really guilty at all pleasures

I posted this comment on my (least)favorite movie critic's blog today in response to this query:

"Hey Mick and commenters, Here's my question: Do you have a guilty pleasure? A movie that may be cheesy, sentimental, or just plain bad, but you like in spite of yourself. A movie you're embarrassed to admit you like. (And I think this is different from a flawed movie, a movie that has good parts, but gets off track or has a dumb ended tacked on.)"

I thought I would share it with my gentle readers.

Top Ten Guilty Amanda Pants Pleasures.

10. The Notebook - not really a bad movie, but it surely does not warrant the dozen or so times I've watched it.

9. Popeye - Only a GUILTY pleasure because so many people hated it. It is the greatest!

8. Swing Kids - Nazis, swing dancing, Christian Bale swing dancing AND being a Nazi. Golden.

7.Freddy Got Fingered-Underappreciated!

6. Pump up the Volume - Ridiculous. My favorite movie when I was 13 or 14.

5.Primal Fear - A longer glorified version of a Law and Order episode but Edward Norton blows my socks off every time I see it. Plus Laura Linney makes me laugh.

4. Jackass: The Movie(and number 2)- Like America's Funniest Home Videos only funny.

3. Drop Dead Fred - I love breaky noises. Pheobe Cates has some truly funny moments. I miss her.

2. The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai-very quotable campy cult classic. Watch it with friends. Or alone.

1. Newsies!!!!!!! Christian Bale? Bill Pullman? Vinnie Delpino from Doogie Howser? How can you go wrong? Young boys, singing and dancing? Heaven!

Runners up:
Gummo
The Parent Trap (1961)
Several movies starring Brendan Fraser. Maybe all of his movies.

Additionally,
I hate finals. I hate finals! I hate the spanish language. I hate interoffice romances gone bad when I have to get a constant earful of self-pity. I hate the extreme juice place in the mall (not the one near fred meyers, just the one in the mall).
I love packing and organizing and reorganizing.
Today I went through pictures. A job that could have taken about an hour or two took 4 because it is so hard not to look at each photograph and remember all the good times. Remember all the good times? You know what else I did? You know how you have all those CD cases? Well, if you are like me, you have your CDs either all ripped or burned or whatever the kids say these days, onto your computer. Or you have all of them in those cases that hold all those CDs. I have three of those all filled up. So what do you all do with the plastic cases? Did you throw them all away years ago? Do you still have them and all your CDs in them? I had mine in a box. The box was so nice that I thought it was a shame to just have empty CD cases in it but when I started to think about throwing them out I realized that some of the best album art and pictures and stuff are on the backs of the CD cases. You know those little liners that are crammed underneath the plastic? So I spend, I'm not kidding, like an hour and a half tearing apart each of the plastic cases and pulling out the little liners and then throwing the plastic parts away. I have a few ideas as to what I'm going to do with the liners. Artistic ideas. Interesting Ideas. Some of them are really cool and way better than the actual covers. A common theme is showing the back of the artist. Like the cover has their face or faces and then the back shows the back of their head or something. Also common are candid shots. Some of them are just so great and I'm glad I didn't throw them all away.

When you're down and out, and you need a helping hand, and nothing.. no nothing blah blah blah blah

Jesus, I really hate James Taylor. Not the person. I actually think the going nuts and the becoming all googly-eyed and weird is interesting. I just really can't stand some of his songs, is all.

But speaking of songs, as of late I have been sort of down in the dumps, you might say. You don't say! Yes, down in the dumps. However, I have been listening to the soundtrack to the musical Assassins (which is grrrrreat, by the way. Sondheim, you know. Can't go wrong, tut tut). It is a musical about different people who either assassinated or attempted to assassinate presidents. One of the assassinators is the guy who killed Garfield. Charles J. Guiteau. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_J._Guiteau

The song lyrics are here for you:
[GUITEAU]I am going to the Lordy,I am so glad.I am going to the Lordy, I am so glad.I am going to the Lordy,Glory Hallelujah!Glory Hallelujah!I am going to the Lordy...
[BALLADEER]Come all ye Christians,And hear from sinner:Charlie Guiteau.Bound and determinedHe'd wind up a winner,Charlie had dreams That he wouldn't let go.Said, "Nothing to it,I want it, I'll do it,I'm Charles J. Guiteau."Charlie Guiteau Never said "Never"Or heard the word "No."Faced with disaster, His heart would beat faster,His smile would just grow,And he'd say:
[GUITEAU]Look on the bright side,Look on the bright side,Sit on the right side Of the lord.This is the land of Opportunity,He is your lightning,You his sword.Wait till you see tomorrow,Tomorrow you'll get you reward!You can be sad Or you can be President-Look on the bright side...I am going to the Lordy...
[BALLADEER]Charlie Guiteau Drew a crowd to his trial,Led them in prayer,Said, "I killed Garfield,I'll make no denial.I was just acting for someone up there.The Lord's my employer,And now He's my lawyer,So do what you dare."Charlie said, "Hell,If I am guilty,Then God is as well."But God was aquitted And Charlie committed Until he should hang.Still, he sang:
[GUITEAU]Look on the bright side,Not on the black side.Get off your backside,Shine those shoes!This is you golden Opportunity:You are the lightning And you're news!Wait till you see tomorrow,Tomorrow you won't be ignored!You could be pardoned,You could be President-Look on the bright side...I am going to the Lordy...
[BALLADEER]Charlie Guiteau Had a crowd at the scaffold-
[GUITEAU]I am so glad...
[BALLADEER]-Filled up the square,Som many people That tickets were raffled.Shine on his shoes Charlie mounted the stair,Said, "Never sorrow,Just wait till tomorrow,Today isn't fair.Don't despair..."
[GUITEAU]Look on the bright side,Look on the bright side,Sit on the right side...Of the...I am going to the Lordy, I am so glad!I am going to the Lordy,I am so glad!I have unified my party, I have saved my country.I shall be remembered!I am going to the Lordy...
[BALLADEER]Look on the bright side,Not on the sad side,Inside the bad side Something's good!This is you golden Opportunity:You've been a preacher-
[GUITEAU]Yes, I have!
[BALLADEER]You've been an author-
[GUITEAU]Yes, I have!
[BALLADEER]You've been a killer-
[GUITEAU]Yes, I have!
[BALLADEER]You could be an angel_
[GUITEAU]Yes, I could!
[BALLADEER]Just wait until tomorrow,Tomorrow they'll all climb aboard!What if you never Got to be President?You'll be remembered-Look on the bright side-Trust in tomorrow-
[BOTH]And the Lord!

Now, I know you probably won't read all that but this song is so great! And this guy who killed the president actually recited the part about "I am going to the lordy, I am so glad" over and over again while standing in front of the noose. I like this crazy optimism in the face of death. What a great assassin!

Fuck You, I'm Irish.

Happy St. Padraig's day. Here is a song I wrote for the occasion. I actually wrote it last year but what's the diff?

On St. Patrick's Day
There are thrilling Pilgrim stories
How the Indians
Helped that first St. Patrick's Day

How I love it so
Eating pumpkin pie and turkey
Let us all give thanks
On this bright St. Patrick's Day

Bright St. Patrick's, Bright St. Patrick's, Bright St. Patrick's Daaaaaay!
Bright St. Patrick's, Bright St. Patrick's, Bright St. Patrick's Daaaaaay!

I really got an actual apartment for reals. For reals reals. Did I write this yesterday? Oh yeah, I did. I'm pretty relieved. Especially since I have all sorts of new invigorating life plans that I might decide to write about here or I might not because it sort of stings to look back at things you wrote about that you wanted to do and that you never did for whatever reason whereas if you never commit such idle thoughts to paper, or whatever this is, then you can always deny them later. But I'm thinking I have some good ideas for my future since it probably won't involve any sort of moving away to another area or going to school somewhere else. I've gotten turned down so far at 3 out of the 4 schools I applied to for grad school. I never thought my chances were that great but it still sucks to have done all the work and paid all the money and jumped through all the hoops for nothing. Not for nothing, if I actually do the things that I've come up for my alternate plan. You see, if you have a goal that you might not reach, sometimes you come up with an alternate plan that is better. But if you have no goal in the first place then you don't think in terms of aternate plans, you see? So you just think, what am I going to do tomorrow? Or next week. Or what's on t.v. right now. Or whatever.

Happy St. Patrick's Day, losers!

Babies, Baby.

My newest nephew was born and he was also given a name! Asher Andrusha Adams. His nickname will most likely be Ash. (hole) Or (Dumb)Ash. I will be his favorite aunt and I will also be his least favorite aunt. I will be his only aunt.

I didn't get the tiki apartment which got me down. It got me way down. It got me all downs in the dumps like down syndrome. I was low down. I had the knife to my throat and was crafting my noose, which I think should be spelled Knoose, when suddenly, all of a sudden, I decided that life was worth living and that maybe I would still be able to find an apartment. I did. I can't move in until 4/1 but it is for sure my apartment for double sure. And it is sort of strange. It is in the basement of a "healing arts" clinic. Healing Arts are apparently things like chiropractics and stuff. So I will be hearing the moans and groans of healing above me during the day. It is a very small studio but it has a lot of light and windows, especially considering it is in the basement. I have access to a washer and dryer which are free and it is very conveniently located across the street from the college campus and just a few blocks from my grandmothers house and also just a few blocks north of one cool movie theater and a few blocks south of another movie theater. Remember when I lived in Arcata on 10th St. in the middle of everything? That's kind of how this is only even more awesome, if you can imagine it. If you can. For instance, this fourth of july, when I want to go watch the parade, I just walk out my door and down the street a little ways and then I watch the parade. Talk about your lucky ducks. it is also just about 1/2 mile from Safeway and about 15 other very convenient type of places for my convenience. I am a lucky happy girl and nothing can bring me down.

There were other things I was going to discuss. World Politics and Issues. I don't remember. I should really write these things down so that later I can write them down here.

Hammertime!

3/11 Births

[edit] Births
1544 - Torquato Tasso, Italian poet (d. 1595)
1725 - Henry Benedict Stuart, pretender to the throne of Great Britain (d. 1807)
1785 - John McLean, U.S. Supreme Court Justice (d. 1861)
1787 - Ivan Nabokov, Russian general (d. 1852)
1811 - Urbain Le Verrier, French mathematician (d. 1877)
1818 - Marius Petipa, French ballet dancer and choreographer (d. 1910)
1822 - Joseph Louis François Bertrand, French mathematician (d. 1900)
1863 - Andrew Stoddart, English cricketer (d. 1915)
1873 - David Horsley, English-born film executive (d. 1933)
1876 - Carl Ruggles, American composer (d. 1971)
1870 - Louis Bachelier, French mathematician (d. 1946)
1880 - Harry H. Laughlin, American eugenecist (d. 1943)
1885 - Malcolm Campbell, English race car driver (d. 1948)
1887 - Raoul Walsh, American film director (d. 1980)
1890 - Vannevar Bush, American engineer and politician (d. 1974)
1898 - Dorothy Gish, American actress (d. 1968)
1899 - Frederick IX of Denmark, Danish King (d. 1972)
1903 - Lawrence Welk, American musician (d. 1992)
1903 - Ronald Syme, New Zealand classicist and historian (d. 1989)
1910 - Robert Havemann, German chemist (d. 1982)
1915 - Hans Peter Keller, German writer (d. 1988)
1915 - Vijay Hazare, Indian cricketer (d. 2004)
1915 - JCR Licklider, computer scientist and internet pioneer (d.1990)
1916 - Harold Wilson, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom (d. 1995)
1920 - Nicolaas Bloembergen, Dutch physicist, Nobel laureate
1921 - Frank Harary, American mathematician (d. 2005)
1921 - Ástor Piazzolla, Argentine composer (d. 1992)
1922 - Cornelius Castoriadis, Greek philosopher and economist (d. 1997)
1922 - José Luis López Vázquez, Spanish actor
1926 - Reverend Ralph Abernathy, American civil rights leader (d. 1990)
1927 - Robert Mosbacher, United States Secretary of Commerce
1928 - Albert Salmi, American actor (d. 1990)
1929 - Timothy Carey, American actor (d. 1994)
1930 - Claude Jutra, Quebec film actor and director (d. 1986)
1931 - Rupert Murdoch, Australian-born entrepreneur
1934 - Sam Donaldson, American reporter
1935 - Sandra Milo, Italian actress
1936 - Antonin Scalia, American Supreme Court Justice
1939 - Flaco Jiménez, American musician
1945 - Harvey Mandel, American musician
1947 - Tristan Murail, French composer
1948 - César Gerónimo, Dominican baseball player
1948 - Dominique Sanda, French actress
1950 - Bobby McFerrin, American singer
1950 - Jerry Zucker, American director
1952 - Douglas Adams, English writer (d. 2001)
1954 - Gale Norton, United States Secretary of the Interior
1955 - Nina Hagen, German singer
1956 - Rob Paulsen, American voice actor
1957 - Lady Chablis, American entertainer
1958 - Anissa Jones, American actress (d. 1976)
1958 - Flemming Rose, Danish journalist
1959 - Nina Hartley, American pornographic actress
1960 - Christophe Gans, French film director
1961 - Elias Koteas, Canadian actor
1963 - Alex Kingston, English actress
1964 - Vinnie Paul, American musician (Pantera)
1964 - Shane Richie, British actor
1964 - Peter Berg, American film actor, director and producer
1965 - Lawrence Llewelyn-Bowen, British television presenter
1967 - John Barrowman, Scottish-American actor
1968 - Lisa Loeb, American singer
1969 - Terrence Howard, American actor
1969 - Soraya, Colombian-American singer (d. 2006)
1971 - Johnny Knoxville, American television personality
1971 - Martin Ručinský, Czech ice hockey player
1974 - Bobby Abreu, Venezuelan baseball player
1975 - Eric the Midget, American radio personality
1976 - Thomas Gravesen, Danish footballer
1978 - Didier Drogba, Ivory Coast footballer
1978 - Albert Luque, Spanish footballer
1978 - Christopher Rice, American author
1979 - Benji Madden, American musician (Good Charlotte)
1979 - Joel Madden, American musician (Good Charlotte)
1979 - Elton Brand, American basketball player
1979 - Fred Jones, American basketball player
1980 - Paul Scharner, Austrian footballer
1981 - David Anders, American actor
1981 - Heidi Cortez, American erotic broadcaster
1981 - Lee Evans, American football player
1981 - Russell Lissack, English musician (Bloc Party)
1981 - LeToya Luckett, American singer (ex-Destiny's Child)
1982 - Thora Birch, American actress
1984 - Marc-André Grondin, French Canadian actor
1985 - Nikolai Topor-Stanley, Australian soccer player
1987 - Marc-Andre Gragnani, Canadian ice hockey player
1989 - Anton Yelchin, Russian-born actor
1990 - Reiley McClendon, American actor
2007- Baby Boy Adams (Ansel Acidopholus Aort Adams)

Hoax

I'm not who I say I am.

So I think I might have an apartment. Fingers Crossed! Knock on Socks! Hop on Pop! Jesus Mocks! He is Franz Kafka, Franz Kafka. Have you ever watched Home Movies? It was a cartoon show for 'Dults and I think it was on in the late nineties or the early ots. I had caught a few episode on the tube some years back and then I decided to get all the episodes of all the seasons on DVD through the Netflix. It is great.

Tiki Apartments. That's the place. The party place. The Bacherlorette Pad for the swinging kind of 90s gal that I am. And there is an actual Tiki Totem thing type of thingy as you walk in the front gate of the place. Awesome. I think it might be cursed though.

The reason I'm posting something now is because I am avoiding doing actual work. Actual work work, like for my job, a-which I am currently getting paid for "working" at right now. Also, in addition to actual work, I am avoiding school work which is the work I do when I am at work and it is supremely slow. It is supremely slow but I have one thing I should get done right now and am avoiding doing because I am lazy, shiftless, and godless. And i have no God. See how I didn't capitalize "i" but I did "God. That is because I revere the lord.

Two things I recommend:

zap reader and spreeder. I don't feel like linking them. Google them your goddamn selves. Anywhoo, alls you have to do is paste some text you want to read rill rill fast and these sites sort of help you in that endeavor. It is really really helping me get through the last section of Uncle Tom's Cabin. This is a good book. But it is long and wordy and filled with a lot of Christ talk. Jebus this and Jebus that, and the lord spaketh Let my people go. Etcetera. And alls I can do is think in my head all the time, a la The King and I, "Run Eliza, Run! Poooooor Eliza!" Turns out, the King and I version of the small house of Uncle Tom is a horrible retelling of the original. It is filled with misinformation. So don't watch it and then think you can write a paper about Uncle Tom's Cabin. Read the Cliff's Notes instead, dummy.

I also recommend other things. Buying me a couch. Or a loooooveseat. Although I don't think of you like that. Maybe if I was drunk or you were rich.

How about a little fuck music?

What the F?

Someone registered my page under humor in Stumbleupon a while back. I'm thinking maybe that's why I'm suddenly getting a lot of traffic? My average traffic per day is like 8-10 hits. I've gotten 46 today. That is more than ever before ever. What the F?

It is like a Sauna in this bathroom. And where's the toilet?

If you read this, and you are reading this now, and you are an inquisitive type of person, you might be wondering, or you might have been wondering as lately as a few minutes ago, what I have been up to. No good. I have been up to, and including, no good.

The truth is, the cold, hard truth is, I've been apartment hunting! "How goes the apartment hunt?" you may now being asking. Good question. No good. It has been no good.

Actually things are looking decidedly better as of today. As of just about an hour ago, actually. I made an appointment to look at quite an adorable and cheap place in downtown medford and I happened upon an ad for a very very cute studio apartment in Ashland that I want very very badly and am going to be calling about as soon as I finish this.

I talked to one person the other day while I was on campus in ashland and she described a studio she is renting that is a converted garage attached to her own home. The ad described it as a studio apartment with great views and a private sauna. Very strange, I thought. And it got stranger. She said that the small kitchen, a kitchenette, had a crock pot, two hot plates, a convection oven and that the shower and toilet were sort of in the kitchen. And then a whole separate room was attached for the private sauna. Is it just me or would the average renter prefer having that room made into a bathroom so that you didn't have to pee and shower next to your refrigerator? Maybe it is just me. The whole story is longer but I don't feel like going into it all here. Needless to say, I will not be renting this apartment. Anyway. This whole thing is sort of weird because I don't even know if I'll be living here in 6months of I get into grad school but I really honestly think the chances of that are very very low. So I figured I'll either live somewhere for 6months and be happy to move because it means I got into grad school, or I'll be happy that I moved out because I wanted to move out anyway. Anywho, I kind of like moving and setting up a new place and stuff so all is not lost.

Anybody need my opinion on anything? I feel like I haven't been able to be opinionated and righteous and judgemental enough lately. Maybe I am getting older. I am letting my gray hair grow out. I have a few nice big streaks making their way here and there across my head. I've decided not to cut or dye my hair until it is long enough for a decent length of my natural hair color, which I've not seen in about 10 years. I think it will make me look more mature and that people will take me more seriously. I think it will definitely help when looking for an apartment.

This was really boring. Sorry.