Shower the people

Oh James Taylor. Die already, right? I know, right?

I went to a bachelorette party on Saturday night. I danced and drank and came home and puked. It was great!

I got Alllll AAAAs this quarter. How did I do in Biology 103? I got an A. How did I do in Spanish 203? I got an A. How did I do in Creative Writing 241? I got an A. How did I do in my Capstone Project Class, AKA English 400? I got an A.

My name isn't A-mandapants for nothing. right?

My dad said that my uncle Joe (crazy uncle Joe) has offered me a free round trip ticket to Hawaii. I can't go because he wants me to go this weekend for some reason but he won't say why. My coworkers Angelina and Casey are getting married this weekend so Number 1, I have to go to the wedding and Number 2, I am working most of Angelina's hours while she is on her honeymoon which would be during the time that, for some undisclosed reason, Crazy Uncle Joe wants me to go to Hawaii. Why? You're guess is as good as mine. Actually, my guess might be better because you probably can't truly appreciate the craziness of crazy uncle Joe. But if you are a family member or if you happen to know uncle Joe, then you're guess is as good as mine. If not, your guess probably can't even cover the possibilities of crazy uncle Joe's motives. Because this guy is fucking crazy. It would take a long time to tell you, anecdotally, how much so. But here is a clue that I found on the internets.

This I found, for some bizarre reason, in the Marshall Island Chamber of Commerce meeting minutes from 8/06 and these were part of the remarks of the Chamber President:

Shortly before all the proverbial crap hit the fan for the Majuro Chamber of Commerce and its president last month, Joe Murphy stopped me one day out in front of the post office, and remarked, “You know, Jack, your profile is getting to be a bit too high.” My initial reaction was to shrug my shoulders and keep walking… After a few steps, however, I stopped because it occurred to me that the guy who just spewed out that advice was the author of numerous island novels such as “Confessions of a Nice Bitch,” and my personal favorite, “Retirement Plan: The True Story of the Death of Al Wong.” That is when I thought--if only for a brief, fleeting moment--that maybe I should heed Joe’s formidable words of caution. No, I then rationalized, this is the Marshall Islands, I have been out here for 25 years, what could possibly go wrong? How little do I sometimes know… After the awful experience at the Nitijela hearing last month (and the subsequent nightly overdoses of Advil), with a vengeance and with repetition Joe’s words of warning came flooding back into my brain. I began to ponder, is Joe Murphy a prophet? And, maybe Joe Murphy is always right like he keeps telling us he is…

I can't help but wonder what the awful experience he talks about was, and what Joe was so prophetic about. I found this because I had this great plan to take Uncle Joe up on his offer and go to Hawaii and either just disappear for a week or two, or however long I'd have there, just to take advantage of the tickets while avoiding whatever it is that uncle Joe wants me to do, OR, use the experience as writing fodder to document the whole experience, including the initial phone call I got from my dad, and turn it into like some This American Life-type story. I'll transcribe the initial phone call for you here:

"Well goddamn it, here it is father's day and you haven't called me. And that really bugs me. Anyway, I got a call from my brother Joe today. And for some reason he wanted to know, "How's Mandy doing? How's Mandy doing? Kept on asking, "How's Mandy doing?" Yeah, we'd talking about something, and he'd "Oh yeah, by the way, How's Mandy doing?" "So whatdya, what's this with Mandy? What do you want to talk about her for?" He said, "Well, I just wanted to know how she's doing" So I told her (sic) how you were doing but he wasn't listening. He had some scam going. Anyway, He wants to give you, um, free, round trip tickets, from, uh, uh to, Honolulu and back, and while you're there, you, to visit his daughter, Peggy, who's coming up from New Zealand. This would be starting June 24th and for the next two weeks, if you can do something like that. Let us know, if that's possible, okay? You know my number. Bye Bye."

Weird, huh? Yeah. Weird. It is very weird for Joe to ask about me. It isn't like he is one of a like a couple uncles that I have or that I am like one of a couple nieces and/or nephews that he has. He has like 50+ nieces and nephews and I have like, 9 uncles... I think. If you count Jesus, because my aunt the nun is a bride of Christ, then that rounds it out to 10. And if you count the divorced uncles, then there's more. Do you count those? I don't now. Anyway, the point is, Joe and I aren't especially close. I'm surprised he even remembered my name. In fact, he was probably thinking of Marya this whole time. Maybe he was. That could very well be...

You too can be entertained

http://www.hbo.com/conchords/?ntrack_para1=leftnav_category0_show4

That's a link to the first episode of the flight of the conchord's show on HBO. Pleasure yourself with that, bitches.

Well, I'm off to bed, ragweed face.

Hooked

I've been reading Overheard.com (overheard in new york, the office, the beach, and everywhere) ever since Avantard got me hooked on it from posting excerpts on his blog. I just had to post this one and recommend that if you don't already, you should check overheard.com out. It can pass lots of time but is great for people with short attention spans.

Boys Are Quick to Master No-Dish Meals
from Overheard in New York

Kid #1: ... So then I took a waffle and I filled it with eggs and grits and syrup, and I folded the whole thing up and ate it like a taco...
Kid #2: What? You're going to catch diabetes that way!
Kid #3: What are grits, anyway? What do grits taste like?
Kid #1: Syrup. They taste like syrup.

--Canarsie-bound L train

I caught my diabetes from a toilet seat, but this way is better.

We're Getting a New Deal for Christmas!

So here is the possible new deal. Tell me what you think of it but please do not take into account the poem that I posted a few days ago.

Re-apply to grad school but just for Literature, nothing fancy. Apply to a bunch of schools instead of just a few (my dad told me he would help me pay for as many schools as I want to apply for since it gets pretty costly(one of the schools I applied to last year had a $110 application fee)). In the mean time, continue going to SOU and get a Creative Writing minor. I can do it easily in a year since I only need 20 credits to complete it. That would be taking 1-2 classes each quarter next year OR taking 3-4 for 2 quarters if I want to do it fast-like. Also, try to get something published and send out some of my essays to those essay contests I see all over the english department. That will help me get into grad school. God, it feels good to have a plan. How does it sound?

Woops.

http://blog.nbc.com/ross_blog/

Ross The Intern Mathews Talky Blog: pre-gym glory.

My favorite Homosexual. I'm going to add a link to his blog because I just enjoy him so much. He is a delight! A delight!!! Here is the link now so you don't have to wait. http://blog.nbc.com/ross_blog/atom.xml
Have a great day!

Poetry? Seriously, how gay am I? Gay as Gay Ray.

My aunt says that lesbians drive Subaru's. My car isn't a Subaru but everyone always mistakes it for one... Story of my life. Anway, here is a stupid poem I wrote about Yreka because I was feeling especially Yrekan today.

The Mean Streets of Y-Town

In the alley behind Third Street,
Where the crass orange oriental poppies grow fast
Like the milk-fed farm girls
(It's the hormones, I heard),
I watched my sister shit her spandex running pants
(do NOT tell her I told you so).

On Miner Street I staked a claim
Not for gold,
I’m not a greenhorn or fool,
Just a middle school kid
Walking home from Jackson Street to Oregon Street,
Taking the long way home,
Turning onto Miner
To score some free candy
From a guy the kids called Gay Ray.

Up Mt. Butcher Hill
My dad and sister and I planted bulbs.
One time I painted the fence white
In front of the Chinese cemetery

I never saw a llama on Yama but I always thought I might.

In this High Desert Siskiyou County City
We used to play under the streets when the creek went dry
We'd find beer cans, broken glass, used needles and underpants
(And one time, ka-ching, porn).

When the lake
(Greenhorn isn't a lake, it's a reservoir)
Dried up for so long
(I heard it drained into an old mine shaft and backed up into the CHP office, Ha! Do pigs swim?)
We could walk across it and feel like we were in the Gobi
Or Death Valley.
We could crawl on our bellies over the cracked ground and plead for "agua... agua...."
When we were kids, people who died in the desert spoke Spanish.

On Third Street I ran into a parked car
On my blue bike
Because I wasn't paying attention
Except to the oil spots on the road
That I needed to avoid with my front tire like cracks on the sidewalk,
But it was only three stitches.

On Gold Street, a lady bug flew in my ear and stuck, still flapping, on my eardrum.
No stitches, a lot of screaming,
A visit to Siskiyou General Hospital,
A Very long pair of tweezers,
A lot of water (to drown the poor thing)
And don't ever touch my ears or I'll hit you.

For Poetry, find a cowboy.

For Culture, find Sleazy Pierre (he's usually slinking around the Yreka Motel on North Main with beret, unless he died).

For Fine art, find the water tower.

For bread, tough luck. There is no Yreka Bakery, neither backward nor forward.

Wilford Brimley - The Beetis

Thanks Justin for finding this awesome video about Beetis!

Spree, non-shooting.

I bought some shit today, I did. I bought it all up. Clothes, shoes, bed raisers for better organization purposes (more room to throw shit under my bed), and a bed skirt (for the covering up of said shit). I am ready for summer time, babies. Poopy Babies. I am back into a little bit of a shoe fetish. I had stopped buying shoes a while back because I hated all the shoes. All of them. But now I like some of the shoes so I have just been going batshit crazy over shoes. I have bought I think 7 new pairs in the last 4 or 5 months. I bought rubber shoes today. They are really great. You would be so jealous. And they were really cheap because no one wants rubber shoes in the summer time. No one but me.

Did you know that Vince Vaughn is a republican? Yeah, totally. What a dick head.

Flight of the Conchords - Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros

Giant's Causeway... of the soul.

Remember when I was so busy all the time and I never went to the movies even though this is one of my favorite pastimes? And then I started trying to fool myself into thinking that watching movies at home from the Netflixes was good enough? Remember that? Those days are over. O-V-E-R-E. The other day I saw Shrek and then yesterday I saw Knocked Up. I laughed. It actually WAS better than Cats. I'm not just saying that because it is a funny expression. Remember when I lied that I had tickets to see Cats and I was going to be giving them away? That was a good made up story lie. I am good at making up story-lies. I have been so incredibly social and busy lately that it is positively insane. Here is what I have been up to:

Okay... I lied. I haven't really been that busy or social. I did go to an English Department end of the year party yesterday for about an hour before I got physically ill since I hardly knew anyone there and didn't want to go at all and just couldn't think up an appropriate story-lie to tell the teacher who drug (dragged?) me there and even drove me herself in her car. So that was social, sort of. Sort of awfully social. Then today I went to a bridal shower which was actually very nice and much easier because I knew almost everyone there and there were things to do like eating and drinking and the opening up of presents. I really have grown to love shopping for and wrapping/preparing gifts. It is a joy. It is the only time that anything resembling craftiness comes out of me, unless you count my shifty-eyed craftiness which doesn't really come out of me either since it is always there, on the surface, watching you, and making plans and schemes. But for my gift today I actually used bright blue pipe cleaners to tie up things and stuff. Pipe Cleaners. It is like I am in the second grade. There are so many things you can do with pipe cleaners, people. So many things. I don't think anyone actually buys them to clean pipes, however. Do they? I mean, not brightly colored ones, surely. Right? I don't know. I'll have to do some market research, crunch some numbers. Yesterday I was visiting my grandmother, one of the other social things I did in the last couple days, and this guy on TV was talking about how he is in jail and hasn't seen his daughter for a while and then he said, "according to my calculations, I won't see her until she is (this many) years old" I forget how old he said she would be because I was too busy laughing at him talking about his calculations. Crazy jail man.

Knocked up was funny. Loudon Wainwright III was in it and the end credits featured 2 (TWO!) of his songs. Talk about awesome, right? I know, right? And Paul Rudd is the cutest cutest cutest in the whole whole world and I love him so much. It was great. Go see it with friends. Or alone, like I did.

Oh! I set up a time to get the Internet and cable hooked up at my humble abode so I will be set for life. For Life! I'll never ever have to leave Ashland ever again. Hey, you should movie here! It is so great! The weather, the people(well, not so much the weather and the people), the magical magical feelings you get walking around the town, it is truly God's Country. You put the cunt in God's country, Marigold. I only say that because Marigold recently revealed that the c-word is the only curse word she really does not like. So now Marigold IS the c-word, of course. To me. Better than being dead to me like she was. But seriously, all my friends should move to Ashland right now. K? Great. On to the next item of business.

Remember when I told you to watch Weeds? I mean it! I want to talk about it with someone but I don't know anyone who watches it! It is so great! Watch Weeds! It is like Six Feet Under meets Arrested Development! Only that is totally not true at all. It is neither of those things meets neither of those things. But it leaves me with similar feelings. And isn't that what counts? Isn't it? Is this the longest blog ever? A while back I decided to just write short blogs because sometimes I just have one little thing to say real quick and I think people probably like to just read short things that fill up less then one computer screen without having to scroll or click or be involved in any way. Well, fuck you!

I have so many things to discuss with you and I would like to do this over tea next Tuesday.

I've downloaded season one of Weeds, that Showtime show with Mary Louise Parker Mastrontonio, you know, the one about the suburban housewife who deals the maryjane. I loooove it. So I'm downloading season 2. I recommend it to all and sundry.

School is almost done! School is out, put your books away. Now is the time we leave for the day. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. I make a nice go bow like this you see.
That was a song we sang every day in second grade when we would leave for the day. I have to work on my presentation for my senior capstone project thingy with my advisor tomorrow and then on Monday I have my Spanish final and then Tuesday I have my presentation to which you are all invited. It is Tuesday at 3:30pm and I am going first so get there early. It will be Central Hall room 270. On Wednesday at 7:30 in the freaking morning I have my Biology final and I also have to turn in my Creative Writing Portfolio. It will be the best Creative Writing Portfolio ever ever made by Mank-Ind.

Have you ever been hated or discriminated against? I have. I've been protested and demonstrated against. Picket signs for my wicked rhymes, look at the times!

I'm getting cable ASAP! I need to just embrace television. I need to embrace it as an old friend, my first friend, really. Television is the wave of the future. You heard it here first.

I almost forgot! Happy Birthday to Aunty Tooney Balooney, the blog of whom you can peruse by clicking on the link to your left. My left. She is 67 years old today. Or something like that. Maybe not that old. But she is pushing 60. Pushing it real hard. Push it. Push it real good. Remember that song? Was that Salt 'n Peppa? Let's talk about sex, Baby. Was that them too? What a great girl group.

Fudgecicles

So who is coming to visit me over the summer? You? It is high time I make some plans of my own. Vacation plans. You know what I'm talking about? I think I need to take a vision quest. You know how some people spend everyday around other people and then they take a vision quest and they go into the desert alone and find themselves? What fools. I take vision quests to the parking lot.

I'm in a parking lot right now, actually. I just watched Shrek the Third. It was pretty good. I give it three out of five Shreks. Not as good as the first one, as I overheard one guy say as he and his family came out of the theater. And I agree with him. Not as good as the second one, I don't think. Maybe. About the same. Comparable.

Sometimes I have to turn my car back on so I can turn on the heat. The craziest thing, there is snow in the hills around Ashland tonight! Actual snow in June! Global Warming my left foot. Actually, it has been quite warm over the last week or so and I even got a sunburn/rash on Sunday. I don't really get burned like I used to. Now I just get an itchy rash all over whatever is exposed to the sun. Gotta make that Vitamin D, gotta win that car.

Big assed men creep me out.

I made up some new songs. Some of you might have heard them. Some of you aren't so lucky or I forgot you. If so, drop me a line and I'll send them to you if you feel left out. I feel like my songwriting is tapping into this as-yet untapped well of creativity and geniousosity. It is really great to be me. Really great. And it is only the beginning! You thought that Leopards are Neat and the Thanksgiving Song were the beginning and the end, but you were wrong! You were dead wrong.

I can't be the only one

I love cuteoverload.com. Don't get me wrong. It is a great website. I don't have a problem with the website. But, does anyone else want to strangle the person who writes the cutesy baby talk commentary on the pictures? I want to strangle her. I want to rip her tongue out of her mouth and tie it around her fingers so that she will stop typing that stupid shit.

A-Z of Mandy (pants)

I stolled this off of Frank (avantard)
[A]- AVAILABLE: Widely
[B]- BIRTHDAY: July 6th, '78
[C] - CONFUSED: No, You're the one who's confused
[D] - DRINK YOU LAST HAD: Water, or technically a carmel latte since the water I am drinking right now.
[E] - EASIEST PERSON TO TALK TO: My fambly and next would be Justin because he never shuts up.
[F] - FAVORITE MUSIC GROUP/BAND: The Murphy Family Singers AKA The Mount Butcher Hill Billy Boys
[G] - GUMMY BEARS OR GUMMY WORMS: Chocolate Covered Gummy Bears
[H]- HOMETOWN: Y-Town, Yrethra, Y-to-the-R-to the Eeeeeka!
[I]- INSTRUMENT(s): a little of this, a little of that, the piano, the guitar, chimes.
[J] - JUICE: OJ
[K] - KILLED SOMEONE: Bound and Tortured, but not yet Killed.
[L] - LONGEST CAR RIDE: Yreka to the Grand Canyon to Philadelphia to Florida and back to Yreka when I was 5. I remember the Gulf of Mexico being very warm.
[M] - MILKSHAKE FLAVOR: Mint Chocolate Chip
[N] - NUMBER OF PETS: 0
[O] - ONE WISH: Go back in time
[P] - PERSON WHO KISSED YOU LAST: Some Asshole
[Q] - QUICK RESPONSE: Frap
[R] - REASON TO SMILE: Daylight Savings
[S] - SINGLE: Is this the same as the first question? or is this like a music single?
[T] - TIME YOU WOKE UP: 10 AM
[U] - UNDERWEAR: Punky Brewster Crotchless
[V] - VIOLENT: Yes
[W]- WORST HABIT: Picking. Nit and otherwise.
[X] - X RAYS YOU'VE HAD: teeth, chest, hand, I think that's it.
[Y] - YOUR FAVORITE ANIMAL: either an elephant, or a ladybug
[Z]- ZODIAC SIGN: Cancer (of the anal canal)

6 weird things about myself:
1. There is nothing wierd about me.
2. Diseases.
3. My family.
4. My friends.
5. I got a higher SAT score than Marigold (way higher)
6. In highschool I watched Quantum Leap every day alone in my dad's classroom at lunch even though I had friends. I had to get my Leap on.

Hey! I found the secret! The secret to unlocking the secret... of Einstein.

My nephew said that to me today. What I've written above. Kids. Kids today. I've decided that I no longer have a moral obligation to vote for Kucinich but rather, I have a moral obligation to write-in Gore. If enough people write him in, even if he isn't running, does he have to say yes?

Ode to Al Gore

Al Gore
You Man-Whore
Run
Come on, sucka

Run Al Gore
Run
In the sun
And also for president

Dear Al Gore
Too bad your last name
Rhymes with Bore and Snore
I want you to unlock my Lock Box.

Oh Al Gore
That last part was kind of dirty
I want to be your Core
Constituent

Al Gore Al Gore
No More No More!
Four More?
I'd rather swallow Chlor!
(ine)

Gorey Gore Gore
You'd make a good Door
And a good window, or
A president.

Al Gore, Oh Al Gore
I wish you didn't talk so slow
Like I am a 3rd grader
And you are reading The Pet Goat

Al, Al, Al, Do it, Al
Come On! I Dare You!
I double dog dare you
Now you have to do it

Lugubrious L-U-G-U-B-R-I-O-U-S Lugubrious.

I read a salon article today going on and on about my boyfriend Hugh Laurie and I agreed with every syllable. Especially the part where the writer quoted Emma Thompson as saying about Laurie that he is "lugubriously sexy, like a well hung eel." My question is, why didn't they get married and have a son and send him to America to be my war bride? Why? Well? It would have been too much cool for this planet. Too many lugubrious sexy well hung eels muckying up our gene pools.

Razzamatazz Iraq Attack

I pretty much instantly liked the new Rufus Wainwright album. No big suprise there but it would have really been sucky if for some reason I didn't like it. I still don't have Andrew Bird's new one but in my list of priorities it is aways Wainwrights before Birds.

The truth about this morning

This morning I woke up a few times. I stayed up late last night, past 2 pm I think, so I set my alarm for 10am but I got up earlier than that to pee. I reset my alarm for 11am but I didn't fall back asleep. I tried to lucid dream but I haven't done that since I was a teenager. I used to practice in the summer time when I could sleep in forever. After I couldn't fall asleep again I imagined I would make myself a breakfast. A real breakfast with eggs and toast. Then I thought maybe I'd take myself out to breakfast. But I wasn't ready to get dressed and stuff. I got up, turned on the kitchen light, put my shoes on, and went out to the other room where my refrigerator is. I had to put my shoes on because a few days ago I noticed slug tracks on my carpet in the morning. I've read that they don't like coffee so I spread some coffee grounds near the sink where I saw the tracks but I still saw more this morning. I'm not quite sure what to do. I guess I could get up really early in the morning when the slug (or it could be a snail, right?) is more likely to be out and about and then I could just pick it up and put it outside. I spread a little bit of salt too. I feel bad. We'll see what happens. Anyway, the thought of walking around barefooted on slug or snail slime seemed a little bit gross. I got 3 eggs from the refrigerator, some yogurt, some butter, and the ketchup. I had to put the eggs in my pocket because I couldn't carry everything and I was worried that I would forget they were there by the time I came back into my apartment and that I would sit down or something. I made scrambled eggs and toast and ended up not eating any of the yogurt. I made coffee. I watched a few episodes of Six Feet Under. I've been watching all the episodes again. I got through season 2 today and watched part of the first episode of season three when Nate dies but then doesn't. I did some sudoku puzzles. My mom called to read my letter that made it into the Chronicle aloud to me over the phone. It reminded me of when my dad would write letters to Herb Caen and then he would be so excited if they were printed. I wasn't as excited, I just felt like a huge dork. Hopefully tomorrow, the first day in about 2 months that I will have off of both work and school, will be more productive. I think I'll go see a movie.

Lipogrammatic Blog

Just today, I was doing a small bit of wiki-studying, and I found information on lipograms. A lipogram is a book, or anything I think, that has within it no occasion of a distinct part of our jargon, lingo, locution, vocalization, or our manuscription, longhand, shorthand, print or scrawl. This common part is that fifth unit in our ABC's. Do you know of which I am alluding? I'll furnish a hint. It is not found within any of what is so far told in this blog post. Any postulation, divination, notion, opinion, suspicion, or surmisal? No? How about now? Nothing? You stink. If you can't find it, you should go swallow worms, dummy.

You may ask, how is Mandy fairing? Good. I'm doing good. Thanks for asking. Good Luck with finding my tricks and stuff. Good luck with that.

I would like to make a withdrawal... of love.

The reason that I have been MIA (missing in action), is because I've been RRB (real, real, busy). For instance, this last Saturday morning I was witness to a bizarre event indeed. A Civil War Reenactment. In Yreka. California. Yep. Justin said the other day, "I bet Sarah Vowell would be all over that kind of thing, like a reenactment of this war that happened thousands of miles away." Yes. Justin also said this, which I wanted to submit to Overheard.com but since I read it instead of overheard it, I guess it doesn't really count: "her breasts were great but not on her, like she is so bitchy." This was in reference to Jan from the Office. I love google chat. I can take chunks of things people said, put them totally out of context and then make them sound like assholes. Hmmm.. Lets try it. Justin will never chat with me again.

Justin: that would be funny if the producers forced her to get a boobjob to keep her job on the show

Justin: they must just use a wonderbra or computer graphics or something.

Justin: some asian computer guy spends like 50 hours per episode making CGI boobs, she has blue stuff on her chest and the CGI boobs go there.

Justin: and Bill Cosby's murdered son Ennis is buried under the shed.

There you go. I said way way worse things, trust me. Way way worse.

Oh! So here are some pictorial likeness of the event this weekend. Oh, and my sister and her babies were visiting, so they are there in the pictures too.

These are the reenactment shots:

This is my dad and my sister and Ailsa and below is my dad and my mom and little Ailsa

This is little Ailsa, the neice and below is my sister in hot pursuit of Yankees

And no Civil War Reenactment is complete without a camo-ATV. Just like in Sherman's March.

There has been other stuff but I'm tired.

But Really, Where Is My Jet Pack?

Here is an interesting article about all the crap the future never gave us that we wanted, like jet packs and equality.

http://www.salon.com/books/feature/2007/05/12/jetpack/index.html

Reading this article in salon got me a'thinkin' bout my childhood and what I thought the future would bring. I secretly thought the Russians were totally going to out do us and that we were screwed (but not really screwed). This also reminded me of when various adults, usually teachers, would tell us kids about the horrible communists and how they forced children into jobs. There was no freedom. No choice to grow up to be anything you wanted. America was so great because we could grow up to be ANYTHING we wanted. Not like the poor Russian kids. They would have some group of communist government people come to their school and they would tell little Jimmy, "You will be a cosmonaut," and little Mary, "You will be a prima ballerina," and little Boris, "You will be a janitor." Some kid might ask the teacher how these horribile communist would decide who got which job. And the teacher, probably making this up as she went along, would tell us that the future jobs of the Russian children would be determined by a series of aptitude and personality tests and sometimes it would just be a matter of who you know, you know, higher up. Scandelous! Imagine! Little children having their futures decided by perfect strangers. And nepotism! Cronyism! SOOOO much different then us American kids who could be anything we wanted and just took aptitude and personality tests for fun. Anyway, this always seemed like some kind of fairytale life because I always imagined myself in Russia, being analyzed by men in very drab suits and women in babushkas, being weighed, measured, and having my worth determined and coming out ahead of all the other kids. No peer pressure. No school yard system of hierarchy. Highly intelligent and discerning adults saying, this one is something special. This one can be a prima ballerina. This one can become chairwoman of our nuclear war head rocket scientist division. It still sounds like heaven to me.

Cadbury Eggs...smaller?

I can't believe I am posting 2 youtubers in the same day but this made my jaw drop in the most ludicrous of fashions.

Ripped from the Tubes "All in the Face - A Tim/Jim Tribute"

A beautiful montage/homage.

Life update for Future Mandy: If you are bored by this, suck an egg.

Well, Future Mandy, you might be wondering exactly what has been up lately. Well, I'll tell you. Still very little. Still no social life whatsoever, except for the promise of a wedding to attend in a little over a month and the occasional visit from your parents, you lucky plucky girl.

I saw Hot Fuzz on Friday and I enjoyed it so much. So much, in fact, that my love for Martin Freeman was resumed (he had a very small cameo) and I've spent the last couple of days watching youtube clips of Tim and Gareth and Pam and David and all the old gang from The Office:British Invasion-Style. Here are a couple of things I've noticed. Tim was a lot more angry, generally, than Jim is. And I think smarter. Not as snappy of a dresser, however. Gareth was delightfully more sexually inappropriate and forward than Dwight is. Delightfully so. I feel sorrier for Michael than for David, as he comes off as slightly more sweetly pathetic than assholey pathetic, HOWEVER, when I do feel sorry for David or feel a twinge of sympathy for him, it is such a stronger feeling and I feel more like I am watching a kitty cat getting humiliated. And that brings up another major difference. The English people make me squirm so much more. There are scenes that were so incredibly uncomfortable and hilarious to watch, like a car wreck with clowns. You want to look away but can't look away AND you are laughing. Not as much with the new one.

But Hot Fuzz = Hot Hot Summer Time Laughs. Mandypantsalot says "Check It Out!" Nick Frost is the funniest. There were also some really funny previews that got me all excited(down there). I can't wait to see Superbad, starring Michael Cera, the kid George Michael from Arrested Development (and who is 19, I found out, so he is totally legal now). It looks so great. Steve and Marigold mentioned it to me after they saw Hot Fuzz. I think it will be a big hit. I kind of think that kid is some kind of new thing. Like the new Adam Brody but better because that guy is already all washed up. And he doesn't have that stupid ironic humor that never ever stops that all the people in my generation have (myself included). And he is Canadian, so he is innately talented and funny. You know who he is? He is Bob Newhart. He is the new Bob Newhart. Good, that's settled.

My sister and my nephew and my niece are all coming to visit the day after tomorrow. I am very much looking forward to that.

School is going okay. I'm king of slacking off and I've got some real work to do in the next few weeks but then it should be done forever.

I applied to this thing at work that I didn't get chosen to interview for and I'm really pissed about it but also kind of glad because it is the kind of thing that is a real job and career and stuff and it isn't anything that I want to have anything to do with.

I've been posting some of my stories on Zoetrope which is this online story thing. It is kind of boring to explain but basically you review other people's stories and then they let you post your own stories for other people to review. It's fun. I like reviewing stuff. I like getting reviews. Sometimes. I should post some of my reviews here. Hmmm... Maybe I will.

I'm still fiddling around with making songs and I bought a microphone thing to make it easier and better. Not too much better, but much easier.

I watched Palindromes the other night. That Solondz guy who made Welcome to the Dollhouse and Happiness and Storytelling. It was weird but I liked it. I just finished a book about A Chorus Line, the musical and then I got obsessed with the soundtrack again and then I decided to watch the movie again, which is one of the most horrible pieces of crap ever made of a Broadway musical, but which I enjoyed anyway because I like the music and the mirror and the chance to dance for you. Anyway, if you have any A Chorus Line related questions I am now pretty much an expert.

I am continuing to work on this great paper I'm writing for my Capstone project on Amputation in Fiction and I just finished this great section on Captain Hook where I get to use a quote from J.M. Barrie's play that includes my new favorite word "dandiacal." Barrie, a.k.in my head.a. Johnny Depp, uses it to describe the manner in which Captain Hook dresses because he dresses like a dandy. I think those nerds who walk around in girl's jeans are dressing rather dandiacally.

I think I'm going to start using labels. As of right.... NOW!

The Cat Came Back

So I read today that Yusuf Islam, the artist formerly known as Cat Stevens has decided to play some music again. Write some songs. I'm happy to hear this. I read that his son bought a guitar and he just decided to start playing again. This kind of blew me away because when I imagined him not playing anymore I assumed that meant that he just didn't perform anymore or write music or record or anything. But he didn't even have a guitar in his home. Crazy. As for as Father/Songs go, I put this one at number one, totally blowing that Cats in the Cradle shit away. 2nd is Like Father, Like Son from Into the Woods.

My father the famous playwright

My father sent me an email today. Here is what it said:

Mandy,
Please link this to your My Page website.
Pops

http://www.lazybeescripts.co.uk/cgi-bin/AuthorWeb.asp?sAu=Gerald%20P.%20Murphy

So that is what I am doing. I'm not sure exactly what he means by "My Page website." I think he means this blog. Who knows. He is a crazy man.

Sometimes I think the Media Nazi is a little retarded

This is what I read on my friend quiz page. I thought Justin (the media nazi), with the choices of St. Ralph, Austin Powers:The Spy Who Shagged Me, Memento, and Hostel would have liked Memento the best as it is the only movie on that list even worth paying money to see. But I was wrong.

"Love for Only One!Incorrect Answer! Justin actually rated 'Memento' 2 stars, but loved 'Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me', rating it 5 stars."

5 stars? 2 stars? Jebus.

Of the many, the best racist joke I made up today

But rappers have to use it because, I mean, how many words can you think of to rhyme with trigger?

Much Obliged

I decided that I have a moral obligation to vote for Kucinich. Even though he is a dwarf.

This is what happens when people don't update their blogs often enough to keep me entertained.

I get bored and then I have to perform searches.

Far from the maddening pants.

Here is the word association between Marigold and I today. I hope she is posting this on her blog right now! This really says alot about our personalities and also how gay Marigold is for me.

Marigold is "Steve" and I am "Me"

me: My name says that I am busy and it also says, "single and lovin' it."

Steve: that's a lie

me: You're right, I'm not single.

Steve: you are multiple

me: sclerosis

Steve: word association!
Montel

me: Free

Steve: bird

me: rice

Steve: cake

me: monkey

Steve: urinal

me: fat

Steve: whore

me: bait

Steve: jail

me: mars

Steve: igolds

me: tracy gold

Steve: anorexia nervosa
okay!
JESUS
I'm going now

me: STOP!
Bye!
fine

Steve: BYE

me: lates
bye
sexual

Steve: healing

me: healing

Steve: STOP

me: ha!
We are like twin sisters!

Steve: bye FOREVER

me: God bless the mister.
Young
Bye!

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.