yeaaaaaaaa...

about that last post. nevermind.

believe it, bitches

the playoffs start tonight, but is this the year? you're goddamned right it is. go cubs, go.

dear Lifetime,

thanks for replacing the nanny with desperate houswives. now i have no reason to get out of bed – or wake up, for that matter – before golden girls starts. you assholes.

sincerely,
pat

an exerpt from "her silver lining"

page 26:

gertrude held an off-white object under the water flowing out of the tap, and quickly caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. the dim light that surrounded her face cast shadows, unflattering patches of dark, which swept across the side of her nose and down toward her jaw. still, time had been kind to her - kinder than it had been to others she knew.

give us a smile, she thought to herself as she placed the dentures into the roof of her mouth. gertrude still wasn't comfortable with this set. she loved her real teeth, but it made sense to go ahead and have them replaced. a sly smirk started to poke at the corner of her mouth as she thought, these might get in the way tonight.

jameson, gertrude's husband, had died just over two years ago, and not a day passed where she didn't think about him. at the same time, she had often told herself, a woman's got needs – even at 73.

eugene was charming, had all of his original teeth, and at 75 was the talk of all the single ladies at piney shores. he had made his money early in life as a podiatrist, and after a couple of failed marriages, found himself gravitating to the life of a bachelor. at piney shores he had his own place to live, he bought his own groceries, chose what to watch on tv, and didn't have to share his bed... unless he wanted to.

eugene loved the way the gals glanced at him through their blinds as he and old carl batted the shuttlecock back and forth out on the badminton court. he also loved how the arts n' crafts ladies always called him gene, before offering to pose nude for one of his sketches. eugene was a stallion amongst old and broken down workhorses, and tonight he had chosen a new rider – gertrude.

sitting at the end of gertrude's bed, eugene felt a bit out of place. perhaps it was the photos of gertrude with her deceased husband that were framed and displayed across the top of her dresser. or maybe it was the religious iconography that dotted the walls – a crucifix over the doorway, a painting of the virgin mary over by the window. eugene never fancied himself a religious man; he believed in creating his own fortune, his own fate, and no one else (heavenly, or otherwise) had any bearing on his life's direction.

it certainly wasn't performance anxiety that nagged at him as he grabbed at the afghan that covered the bed. gene was proud of his ability to become erect. in fact, he had always thought that his boners would be envied by men half his age. he just couldn't understand what was tearing at the back of his mind.

before he could give it anymore thought, gertrude stepped into the bedroom, dressed in a silky nightgown. just as gene began to feel the blood rush to his groin, his mind cleared. was he in love?

gertrude moved towards the bed.

made in china

well here's one good reason to not be a world class athlete – lead poisoning. apparently the gold medals being awarded at the Olympics in beijing are 99% lead alloy, and covered in a gold-colored lead-based paint.

don't worry, china has a solution: "we are urging all first-place athletes not to lick, taste, or suck on their medals."

graveyard girl

r.i.p.

flighty girls are wack

best dude ever.

apparently germans love two things: 1) booze, and 2) fighting fires. this wasted guy in berlin heard an alarm for a fire at an apartment building, and wanted to help.

"on hearing the alarm, the 38-year-old man had rushed to the fire station, was helped into protective clothing and helmet by unsuspecting firefighters and boarded the fire engine, a spokesman for suedhessen police said.

"after arriving at the apartments, firefighters quickly realized the man was an imposter and called the police, he added.

"'when fire breaks out, it's all hands on deck!' the man told officers when questioned about his motives. he was released without charge after sobering up overnight in a police cell."

hilarious.

short humpday playlist

1. nas – hero
2. the frames – the cost
3. sébastian tellier – le long de la riviere tendre
4. m83 – graveyard girl
5. ryan adams – two

albums of the summer 2008

albums of the summer 2008

albums of the summer 2008

girl talk – feed the animals

making portland better vol. 1

i wish i were a queen... bee

http://wkstudio.typepad.com/studio/2008/07/there-is-a-fuck.html

portland is a mighty rose

black magic.
portland rose garden.

portland. day 12.

a lot of people have been asking me what portland's like.

well, everyday is filled with dancing and singing, not too different from this video:

don't be pissed because your own fans hate you

portland. day four.

last week it was 102º F in virginia. today, portland's temperature topped out at 63.

i don't think i'm ever going back.

hope you're all well and good.

lucky charms

there's a new marshmallow charm in everyone's favorite cereal: the hourglass. lame.

hurray.

some nerdy kid spelled a word that most of us have never heard of to win the national spelling bee. which was broadcast live on network television. which was also reported on by thousands of people across the country (and world??).

i find the media blitz surrounding this goofy bastard almost as disgusting as showing high school baseball games on national television. or those 3-hour specials on espn showcasing which college different high school football players are going to attend.

no wonder we're a bunch of entitled crybabies.

great scott!

fire destroyed the courthouse square set from back to the future. tis a sad day, indeed.

33-21

could this be the year?

goodbye brandcenter, hello mountains

lost mountain, virginia

remember good weezer?

this ain't it. although it's close to their older (and not embarrassing) stuff.

despite the sound, this video is just plain weak. a video using a bunch of youtube characters? creative!

we are this low

i was called a "regular" for the first time in my life at any establishment.

too bad it was 7-eleven.

good news fellow catholics

the vatican says it's ok for us to believe in aliens.

according to rev. jose gabriel funes, director of the vatican observatory, the universe is just too vast to rule out the possibility of other intelligent life.

so that means i can continue to go to those pink floyd laser light shows without spending an eternity in purgatory. whew.

i'm due for a C list encounter

during the last couple of weeks there has been an extreme upswing in the number of celebrity encounters amongst my friends. it started with my friend from back home, matt, who recently moved to los angeles. about three weeks ago matt IM'd me to tell me his exciting news - he had finally met his idol, rick ro$$, at a party.

now i'm not saying the bo$$ is a C list celebrity. what i am saying is that after matt's encounter, the level of celebrity interactions amongst those near and dear to me have kind of, well, dropped significantly.

just last week my friend logan texted me with her exciting news. in the bar where she was participating in pub trivia sat none-other-than the original becky from tv's roseanne. wasted. i won't lie – becky number two was my favorite. but it is nice to know that number one is still kicking it around nyc, drinking like john goodman.

then there was yesterday morning when i woke up to find a text message my cousin john rounding out the celebrity trifecta. i immediately texted him back to find out the details. hours later he calls.

"i got wasted with smalls from the sandlot," he said. i was more excited about this than when i got asked to fill out a survey on hollywood blvd by the guy that played roofio on hook. or the time gary sinise told me not to curse in front of his daughter at disney world. or even more than the time i followed the drummer from hootie and the blowfish around the grocery store to see what kind of cereal he bought.

seriously though, who the fuck else eats product 19?

i miss last summer

things to note while watching:

• the tightness of the bass player's jeans.
• the complete lack of a solid storyline. seriously, what the fuck is going on here?
• the giant book that the band is performing on.
• how ugly Toto was. top 5 ugliest bands ever, i think.
  

a public apology

please accept my sincerest apologies for when i said iron eagle 2 is the best movie ever. i mispoke. cool runnings is, in fact, the best movie ever. please forgive me.

painful thoughts i had today

• having my big toe ripped off
• getting stabbed in the eye with a ball point pin
• having a scoop of my bicep taken out with an ice cream scoop
• getting a nerf dart stuck to my eyeball (having to pull it off)

yahoo! is my abusive boyfriend

eighty-eight minutes i'll never get back

don't go see 88 minutes. seriously. it was two hours of horrible acting, retardedly unbelievable plot twists, and al pacino's ridiculous hairpiece yelling lines at the camera.

i think pacino is a terrible actor. not only does he scream 94% of his lines, but he also dresses like it's 1994, and really hams up every fucking scene he's in.

oh, and for the record, scarface sucked. you're only kidding yourself if you think otherwise.

dear christian singer disguised as a legitimate artist on the radio,

how dare you grab my attention, with your pleasant voice and deep emotional lyrics, only to blindside me with all that God stuff. you should be ashamed of yourself. i mean, you might actually have had a shot at making it with real music. you didn't have to sell out to the Man. i'm disappointed in you.

yours,
pat

p.s. the line "you're in me," when talking directly to J.C., is disgusting. seriously.

welcome freshmen

fade into you, by mazzy star, was produced fifteen years ago. that means there are people driving on the road today that weren't alive when this song was written, recorded in a studio, or played during the class of 1993's senior prom.

trip the light fantastic

the best songs, ever

6. take on me by aha - i believe that the only official time guys are allowed to sing like they got hit in the penis, and get away with it, is when this song's playing.

5. take me home tonight by eddie money - who's ronnie? what exactly did she sing that i'm supposed to remember? who cares. this song will rock your face off... in a 1987 kind of way.

4. hangin' on the telephone by blondie - debbie harry was a really hot crazy phone stalker. then she got really into blow/old/ugly.

3. stick shifts and safety belts by cake - true story: simply speaking the chorus of this song in front of my roommate at dulles airport will get it stuck in his head for an entire day. it's that good.

2. in the air tonight by phil collins - i don't have to explain this one.

1. africa by toto - for a song whose lyrics seem so descriptive, i have no idea what it's about. at all. but whoever this african chick is, she must have been foxy as shit to inspire this classic. sweet sassy molassey i love this track.

twenty two fourteen

after prom super mega playlist

1. jackson browne - somebody's baby
2. eddie money - take me home tonight
3. mark ronson - valerie
4. gnarls barkley - blind mary
5. shinichi osawa - star guitar
6. white rabbits - the plot
7. the go! team - huddle formation
8. okkervil river - plus ones
9. peter bjorn and john - the chills
10. ween - blue balloon
    

dig 'em

you know i love stupid people. especially stupid people that change their name to something that really expresses their stupidity. meet peter thomas:

peter, a resident of brighton, england, loves the cereal sugar puffs. how much does he love it? too much is the correct answer.

he recently had his name legally changed to "honey monster." honey monster - the name of the cereal's mascot. honey monster. honey monnnnnnnnster. i'm gonna go.

don't know about luck, but I know the lack of it

i've let myself go. don't think i'm not aware of it.

i eat too much. i exercise too little. i haven't shaved in months. i smoke. i veg out.

and i sleep. a lot.

i should disgusted with myself. sadly, i really wasn't until just recently – thanks to the kindness of strangers. here's what happened:

i'm sitting in the living room, working on my laptop, when i decide that the smell from the trash in the kitchen is finally close to overwhelming. i grab the two black hefty bags from the kitchen floor, and make my way downstairs and out to the dumpster.

we used to dump our trash in a dumpster that was parked on the sidewalk just to the right of our building's front door. with the opening of a music venue right next door, the dumpster was moved about one-hundred yards back behind our building, out of sight. unknown to the residents of our building, the music venue took control of said dumpster, and built a large padlocked protective wooden fence around it.

unable to offload our trash, i trudge back around the front of our building, still schlepping the two bags. at the intersection out front, i weigh my options. do i head all the way to the dumpster behind the old adcenter building? do i toss the bags into the back of a passing pickup? maybe i could sneak the bags into morton's dumpster.

as i stood there making up my mind, a number of employees from the offices nearby come up and stand next to me waiting to cross the street. an older man in a suit takes a look at me, looks back at one of the women with him, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a five-dollar bill, handing it to me with a smile.

"what's this for?" i ask.

"you look like you need it," he responds, still smiling. the confused look on my face threw him off a little, and the smile faded.

a little embarrassed, i look down and notice i'm wearing two different shoes. i've also got on my torn construction jeans, and a tshirt that was part of my escaped inmate halloween costume. to top it off, i hadn't showered yet. i couldn't help but let out a big laugh.

"thanks buddy, but i live right there," i said, pointing to my building. "i'm just taking out the trash."

in retrospect i probably should've taken his money. i also probably shouldn't have offered to suck him off for an extra twenty.

ooh, i'll be the one who'll break my heart

goodbye blue monday: a playlist

march 24, 2008

1. liam finn - second chance
   
2. mgmt - kids
3. the maccabees - toothpaste kisses
   
4. swell season - the moon
   
5. the new pornographers - my rights versus yours
   
6. mgmt - time to pretend
   
7. gnarls barkley - blind mary
   
8. peter bjorn and john - up against the wall
   
9. shinichi osawa - star guitar
   
10. j.u.s.t.i.c.e. - genesis

we were fated to pretend

the good, the bad, and the shitty

great: it's technically the weekend, since there's no speaker tomorrow.

greater: the first pennylane pilgrimage starts in 10 minutes.

less great: there's a chevelle show at toad's place tonight, and already there's a shitload of d's walking around outside my apt... and parking in the parking deck.

even worse: it smells like someone set off a shit explosion in our apt building.

always for you

st. cosby's weekend.
brooklyn, ny.

with special guests: pabst blue ribbon, bloody marys, the upright citizens brigade (in particular: amy poehler, matt besser, seth meyer, brian stack and jack mcbrayer), chinese food, the dram shop, guinness stout, patrick's 5 hour tri-borough adventure, the nypd, sin-ass-sploSHUN, the eagles are real awesome players, sorry!, scrabble, borders' no-bucket-of-beer policy, smirnoff vodka, the brooklyn burger bar, and, most importantly, that retarded throw-up kid.

[click photo to enlarge]

karma police

what can be accomplished in twenty-four hours? more than you might think.

createathon has come and gone. twenty-four hours of brainstorming, strategizing, concepting, writing lines, shooting footage, logging, capturing, editing, 7-11ing, and presenting.

twenty-four hours straight, with no sleep. just a lot of coffee... and a sad attempt at a 3:00 a.m. dance party in the computer lab.

it's hard to participate in an event like this without feeling something – besides exhaustion. it's hard not to take something home with you afterwards.

what was my takeaway from this experience? it became abundantly clear that i'm a bad person. i'm too full of pride. i'm pathetically selfish. i'm self-centered. i do things because of what i'll get out of them. i'm a user. i hurt people. and i write off people that have hurt me.

the truth is, i'm afraid no amount of volunteering can undo any of these faults.

your body was the map, i was lost in there

today's sad conversation

my cousin john: i had a dream i was hanging out with the jonas brothers last night.
me: oh really?
john: yea. they're in richmond tonight.
me: are they???
john: yes, right now. it started at 7, at the coliseum.
me: [expletive deleted] that noise.
john: i'd never heard any of their songs... until now. i'm listening to one.
me: you [expletive]. i don't know you anymore.
john: don't hate.
me: oh, i will hate. i will hate crime your ass.
john: this is really bad. this isn't even funny to pretend to like.
me: i know you'll start to like it and then listen to it constantly [like he did with meatloaf and britney spears and kenny rogers].
john: perhaps. i was listening to the scorps earlier.
me: i pray you didn't just refer to the scorpions as "the scorps."
john: come on, man. the scorps. i've been calling them that for a while.
me: i hate you.

weekend

–noun

1.	the end of a week, esp. the period of time between friday evening and monday morning

see also:
pineapple
guitar hero
tuffy
fake mustaches
mcquila
pictionary
21st birthday girls
lulu
assistanbasea
danger doom
marvin
bags of dogshit
arrested development
couch naps
stood up
the bank job
getting drunkdialed
new boxers
asshole neighbors/landlords
the grey album
liz's sweet sixteen
dave treston
eb's beautifully painted nails
oatmeal cookies (without raisins)
eagle vs shark
an empty apartment

respect the triangle, bitches

check out the brancenter opening at ihaveanidea.org.

grammar is easy

1. you're (yŏŏr; yər when unstressed)
contraction of you are.
ex. "you're a rotten bastard."

2. your (yʊər, yɔr, yoʊr; unstressed yər) –pronoun
a form of the possessive case of you used as an attributive adjective.
ex. "your balls are showing."

sex without love

fastidious in our approach, we were
unaware of our impending doom.
counting steps towards an unseen
kingdom bathed in gold.

years ahead of our time.
or are we late?
unenlightened, we trudge on.

stealing is wrong

"suspect each moment, for it is a thief, tiptoeing away with more than it brings."

- john updike

i am in the twilight of my youth

i used to sit in our garage and watch my father work diligently on those little carvings. he'd scratch away at the surface of the wood with his knife, and as each sliver cut away, falling effortlessly to the floor, a form would begin to take shape.

a solid block soon became a tucked wing, filled with tiny detailed feathers. each duck was more lifelike than the previous.

often i would stare at the row of wooden birds sitting atop a bookcase in our guest bedroom, and imagine them blinking their eyes, then taking flight in a great rush of feathers flapping over my head.

sometime around my middle school years my father completely stopped carving decoys. work kept him busy. as did routine upkeep on our house.

his woodworking tools blended in with the rest of the garage - on a shelf above our camping equipment, to the right of old cans of paint. eventually i forgot they existed.

years later, in a freezing duck blind, i watched a wounded drake mallard take its final breaths at my feet. its mouth opened and closed, but no noise escaped. i should've felt something for this bird. i should've felt sorry for taking its life. i didn't.

the only thing that came to mind was how much i missed sitting on that old paint-stained stool watching dad carve.

get me away from here, i'm dying

rockville lies thirteen miles southeast of gauthier county. thirteen miles of rolling pastures, oil wells, and grazing cattle.

right in the middle of this spanse stands the coolidge house, vacant now for a number of years.

the first time i stepped inside, as a frightened eleven-year-old, my mind raced. ghosts hid behind each door, around every corner, silently brushing past me in the dark.

standing in that plot today, watching the final supports tumble under the force of the bulldozer's push, my mind races. i imagine the spirits of the house flicking into the air, rising above the crumbled ruins. a ghostly smoke, ascending skyward.

shattered fingers: day 15

playing rugby with fractured fingers, though taped up, may seem like a dumb idea.

it is.

dear chicago

we're too young in the morning

sam zell is an asshole.

you've probably never heard of sam zell. not a big deal, really. zell is CEO of the tribune company, which owns the chicago cubs.

why is he an asshole?

because once this money-grubbing d-bag sells the team to whichever investment groups bids highest, he's going to sell wrigley field to a separate group. the big issue is that he's o.k. with selling wrigley's naming rights.

no, that's cool, zell. just buck 80 years of tradition to make a few dollars. i'm sure the millions of cubs fans around the world will be fine with watching their team play at tampax field.

remember when twenty-five was old?

i watched the dust settle. the car was well down the windy gravel road by now, yet my feet stayed firmly planted. glancing down, i realized the plane ticket i clutched was trembling - not from the wind, but from my shaking hand. i casually stuffed the ticket into my jacket pocket.

i should've burned it. one less memory. one less rope tying me up.

i mean, who wants to go to des moines anyway?

holocaust awareness week

i signed up to receive all of the required email feeds (adage, adrants, adweek, etc.) during my first year at brandtown, and rarely opened - or read - any of them.

for some reason i randomly opened the adrants daily from this morning. in it was this ad, by tda advertising and design in boulder, colo.

see you at the crossroad

nine-foot-tall headless bass player

butane variations - goldie hawn

presidential trivia #35

two weeks in hawaii

the first girl i ever madeout with just recently got engaged - their announcement was in the paper yesterday.

two things: 1) i can't believe she's marrying the biggest nerd from our 8th grade class, and 2) why didn't their announcement mention that she was a 2-day champion on jeopardy!?

presidential trivia #11

we're all so alone.

this is the saddest website i've visited in a long time: http://garfieldminusgarfield.tumblr.com/archive

remember when the boys were all electric?

death race 200(8)

sitting on my couch, watching his drug-inspired "interview" with conan o'brien, sean and i came to the conclusion that artie lange will be dead very very soon.

this reminded me of my friend, whose office competes in a death list competition each year. how it works is like this:

• each person competing throws in an amount of money, like 10 or 20 bills.
• then, each person makes a list of the 10 people they feel don't stand a chance of surviving the next 12 months.
• points are awarded on a sliding scale - for instance, how many people select a certain person affects the number of points awarded if said person eats it (the more people that select a certain person, the less points awarded for death).
  
• a smaller number of points are awarded if selected people go to rehab (repeat offenders are worth less points. *note: britney spears is worth 0 points this year), or get in horrible car accidents, or have their penises cut off, etc.
• selected people can't already be on their death beds, or suffering from disease (like cancer, diabetes, rickets, etc.).
  
• at the end of twelve months, whoever has the most points wins all the money.

it's like a fucked up fantasy football league. so if anyone's interested in putting together a death list pool (even though it's already two months into '08), let's hang our hats on it.

here's my bracket:

1. artie lange
   
2. chris berman
   
3. katie holmes
   
4. dick cheney
   
5. pete sampras
6. amy winehouse
7. jimmy carter
   
8. dan rather
9. charo
10. jeff conaway
    

presidential trivia #14

worst things ever

(in no particular order)

• guys that wear all-white sneakers with jean shorts.
• shakira. and her voice.
  
• rings on guys. earrings too.
• guys that wear all-white sneakers with anything.
• today's sitcoms (especially two and a half men, and my name is earl).
• florida.
  

take this sinking boat and point it home

stupid.

i love stupid people. remember my dear friend from ohio who changed his name to "the" dan miller experience. perfect example.

there's actually an arizona woman that might have mr. experience beat out for biggest name-change asshole in the world.

according to peta, 21-year-old rachel feather is changing her name to rachel fishinghurts. seriously.

oh, and the best part? she originally applied to have her name changed to rachel fishinghurts.com (peta's anti-fishing web site), but a judge said, "i don't fucking think so, hippy."

bruce springsteen, please go away

presidential trivia #8

the creativity 50

sometimes, just sometimes, your chips fall into place.

today i received an email inviting me to participate in creativity magazine's 5o bash, as part of brandcenter's student forum on advertising. quite an honor considering the people from school who were not chosen. the bash is an annual event that puts the spotlight on 50 innovators of advertising, entertainment, marketing, technology, design and other fields.

i'm well excited to participate. fact.

the image below represents 25 of the 50 creative honorees that will be attending this year's bash.
in there you can spot dan wieden (standing. sixth from left).

to dan's left, wearing the orangey toga outfit is legendary director ridley scott.

kneeling on the right side of the stairs are the coen brothers.

and (this is where i kind of peed myself a little) on the right, flanking bungie software's jaime griesemer and fallon's juan cabral, are daft punk. daft fucking punk.

*not pictured in the above image, but worth mentioning as part of the 50: radiohead, david droga, alex bogusky, bob greenberg, jon kamen, sergey brin, and larry page.

it gets worse before it gets better

i'm the same as i was when i was six years old,
and oh my god, i feel so damn old.
i don't really feel anything.

on a plane, i can see the tiny lights below,
and oh my god, they look so alone.
do they really feel anything?

oh my god, i've got to move on.
where do you move when what you're moving from is yourself?
– i. brook

civil war general secretsssssss

presidential trivia #10

slang you should be using vol. 2

"let's hang our hats on it." - affirmative response meaning let's do it.
example:
guy 1: hey jerry, want to head over to velvet for that $1.99 lunch buffet with the ladies?
guy 2: hells yea. let's hang our hats on it, monty.

synonyms: "do it up"; or "d-it-u".

"super smash brothers!" - positive exclamation.
example:
guy 1: hey jerry, i just got a clean test result from the free clinic!
guy 2: super smash brothers, that's fantastic, monty. let's go to velvet for the $1.99 lunch buffet to celebrate.

synonyms: "holy fuckface!"; or "fuck fuckin' yea!"

"the portico" - noun, meaning a place where the kids go to do it.
example:
guy 1: hey jerry, did you hear about my trip down to the portico?
guy 2: did i ever! i had no idea the upstairs at velvet was so sexful, monty.

synonyms: "makeout point"; or "alligator fuckhouse."

shattered fingers: day 2

twenty-five years old and i wiped my ass with my left hand for the first time. degree of difficulty: 6.5.

my friday evening in the e.r.

instead of enjoying friday happy hour drinks, i was enjoying a gurney in the mcv emergency room. here's what else i enjoyed (in no particular order):

• two fractured fingers on my right hand, which undoubtedly puts my bowling career in jeopardy.
• no less than six doctors telling me the x-rays of my hand were "impressive" (i don't know what they meant either).
• four different people vomiting blood (i may or may not have contracted the ebola virus tonight...)
• one sixty-year-old woman, who sounded like rocko's snail friend from "rocko's modern life," describing how she has to scoop golf ball shaped pieces of poop out of her own rectum because she is that constipated.
• one real-life gunshot wound being wheeled by me.
• one orange jumpsuit-clad inmate shackled to a bench, surrounded by u.s. marshalls, having his temperature taken by a nurse. and no, it wasn't wesley snipes.
• two female doctors prescribing me to "take up swimming," where the risk of injury is much less than with rugby.

oh, and of course, now i'll be enjoying four weeks of not being able to play rugby. doctor's orders.

hip hop, you're the love of my life

random thoughts for valentine's day, 2008:

• if i were a girl, i would definitely have a crush on dave treston... if for nothing more than his valentine making skills. dave gave me the best valentine in the history of valentines: on the front there was a picture of richie valens, and on the inside it read "won't you be my richie valens-tine?" seriously ladies, snap this kid up before he gets taken.
• the older i get the more i feel like love is just a made up emotion, only visible between characters on movies. love is tolerance veiled in romance. how else can you explain two people living together for sixty years without killing each other? tolerance, not love - that's how.
• i'm not saying that love doesn't exist. far from it, actually. i love mike and ikes. and pabst blue ribbon. and driving at night with the windows down, even when it's cold. and tuxedos. and lens flares. and hard snowfall. and hammocks. and chicago... and i especially love my music. so here's my post-valentine's day playlist:
1. blondie - hanging on the telephone
2. casiotone for the painfully alone - half ghost
3. joshua radin - star mile
4. the roots - act too (the love of my life)
5. cftpa - destroy the evidence
6. seabear - seashell
   
7. citizen cope - sideways
8. playradioplay - at this particular moment in time
9. whiskeytown - inn town
10. ryan adams - dear chicago

ol' abe: 199 years young

bend over, beethoven

three months to go, kids

the story ends with friends and early nights.
a kitten grown to cat, and no more fight.
this is how we stay together, love.
holding back, holding back the year.

true hollywood story: macguyver

all my heroes are weirdos

in a previous life i was a badass. a real gunslinging hard motherfucker. unfortunately, i haven't made the transition into this life all that successful.

listen: i've got badass tendencies... i just happen to fuck up when it counts (you know, like getting punched in the face while intervening in a fight between a girl and a guy, or whatever).

case in point:

it's a fall evening, not too long ago.

i'm casually strolling down an avenue near my apartment along with a near and dear friend of mine... let's call this friend "hiller migh life."

through our casual conversation (pronounced 'drink-ing'), hiller convinces me of a few things: 1) the salvage yard near our apartment has way too many trucks, 2) showing up at our apartment driving a big rig would be really "fucking sweet" [direct quote], and 3) i've never actually tried to operate a tow truck.

you can't argue with this guy. he's very poignant, and almost always right. plus, the salvage yard gate was unlocked.

step one: moving to one of the many tow trucks, i find the number of levers on its side very confusing. pulling and pushing the levers willy nilly doesn't ease the confusion, surprisingly.

"maybe you have to start the truck," whispers hiller.

i nod in agreement.

climbing into the cab, i try the old flip-down-the-sun-visor-to-expose-the-set-of-keys trick, to no avail.

"that always works in the movies," hiller assures me, sending me a sly wink.

ok, so this story is getting pretty boring so i'll skip to the end.

instead of pulling up to my apartment in an 18-wheeler, blaring the horn, then driving my roommates around town, i ended up accidentally spraying myself in the mouth with a fire extinguisher, and throwing up all over the side of a truck.

gangster. real fucking gangster.

ten years gone

*that's harry caray, not charles nelson reilly.

jay gatz

seaquest r.i.p.

tell jonathan brandis i said hey, old friend.

artie, the strongest man in the world

fahrenheit 451

"stuff your eyes with wonder. live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. see the world. it's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories."

asshole concert guy: a profile

sorry for hunting your family

jiminy cricket, paralegal

robot rock

bob dylan is the worst

presidential trivia

honest abe

uranus

clever girl

more like pervelocity

seriously, bro. seriously.

kickin' it old school

maybe the sun will shine today

super tuesday random playlist

february 5, 2008

1. pharcyde - runnin'
2. muse - hysteria
3. t. rex - cosmic dancer
4. zero7 - futures
5. elliott smith - between the bars
6. blonde redhead - silently
7. the frames - song for someone
8. nick drake - place to be
9. office - wound up
10. seabear - lost watch
    

face your fears

zombie attack training

groundhog day

who do i believe? al gore says global warming; phil says six more weeks of winter.