It tastes like burning

C'mon baby...let's work it out

2007-04-11T19:29:00.000-05:00

MySpace is for queers, that's why I'm blogging on here again. The only thing I'll miss about Myspace is all the porn profiles adding me. It really kept me from wanting to keep killing hookers. Well, I'll keep killing the cheap ones...no more escort service murders for me anymore.

Now, let's get this party started. Someone bring over some nappy-headed hoes.

Dear Citizens of Charlotte...

2006-09-29T11:33:00.000-05:00

As you can see from the calendar, the game is coming up this weekend. I'm sure you are as excited for it as I am, as our cities are rivals and have been for quite some time. Your confidence in your team is high, but rest assured, you will suffer humiliation when the sports team from my area defeats the sports team from your area.

On numerous occasions, you have expressed the conviction that your area's sports team will be victorious. I must admit that every time I hear you make this proclamation, I react with both laughter and disbelief. "Ha!" I say to myself with laughter. "What?!" I say to myself in disbelief. How could you believe that your sports team could beat my sports team? It is clear that yours is inferior in every way.

When the sporting contest begins, the players on your team will be treated as though they are inconsequential. It will be remarkably easy for my team to accumulate more points than yours. There are many reasons for this, starting with the inferior physical attributes of the players representing your area. Strength, speed, and agility are just three of the qualities that the players on the team from your area lack. The players representing my area, on the other hand, have these traits in abundance.

I would not be a bit surprised if the individuals on the team from your area were sexually attracted to members of their own gender. That is how ineffective they are on the field of battle.

Underscoring your team's inferiority is its choice of colors. It is ludicrous to believe that your team's colors inspire either respect or fear. Instead, they appear to have been chosen by someone who is colorblind or, perhaps, bereft of sight altogether. The colors for my team, on the other hand, are aesthetically pleasing when placed in proximity to one another. They are a superior color combination in every way.

While we are on the subject of aesthetics, let us compare the respective facilities in which our teams play. While my team's edifice is blessed with architectural splendor and the most modern of amenities, yours is a thoroughly unpleasant place in which to watch a sporting contest. I know of what I speak, for I once attended a game between our respective teams in your facility. Let's just say the experience left me wishing that my car was inoperable that day due to mechanical problems, rendering it impossible for me to get to your area to attend the game.

If you need another reason why the sporting franchise representing my area is superior, look no further than the supporters for the two sides. Not only are the supporters of the team from my region more spirited, but they are also more intelligent and of finer breeding than you and the rest of your ilk. In addition, the female supporters of the team from my area possess more attractive countenances and figures than yours. Some of the women from my side that I have observed could make a living by posing for pictures for major men's magazines. The women who cheer for your team, I'm afraid, are far too unattractive to do so.

One of the more pathetic aspects of the team from your area is the fact that only people in your immediate area possess an affinity for it. By means of contrast, the team from my area inspires loyalty and affection in individuals who live in many other geographic locations.

To illustrate this point, let me tell a brief story: Recently, I was on vacation in an area of the country far away from my own, and I saw many individuals wearing items of clothing that bore the insignia of my team. I approached one such individual and asked him if he originated from my area. He said no, explaining that he simply liked the team from my area and had for many years. Interestingly enough, during this trip, I saw no clothing or other paraphernalia bearing the insignia of your team.

Do you still doubt that the team from your area is inferior to the one from mine? Just look at our teams' respective histories. In the past, we have defeated you on any number of occasions. Granted, there were times when your team beat my team, but those were lucky flukes.

The day of the game will soon be at hand. And no matter how hard you pray to a higher power or how many foam accoutrements you wear in support of the team from your area, your team will be defeated. We will win and you will lose. This is your fate.

Prepare for humiliation. It shall be upon you at the designated hour.

Why I have World Cup fever

2006-06-15T20:33:00.000-05:00

Screw all of the cliched reasons why someone likes the World Cup.

"It's once every four years."
"It brings whole countries together."
"It's the biggest sporting event in the world."

No, here's the single reason why I get a kick out of watching the World Cup...

The simple fact that when a team has a free kick, the other team will put four guys in a wall and they are all crossing their hands over their crotches.

In no other sport will you have guys care more about protecting their goods. Other sports wear cups, but in soccer, you don't.

Granted, the ball is being kicked straight at them at about 100 mph (that's about 180 km for our non-American friends, since this is an international event). They would rather protect the baby-makers than the ball going into the goal.

Aside from the fact that they aren't concerned about the ball going into the goal, they aren't protecting their heads. Well they are, but not the one with the brain in it. (I guess some women will beg to differ with that last comment on which head the brain is in.)

The Idiots Guide to talking to a person who can't talk well

2006-06-14T18:43:00.000-05:00

In my job, I frequently interact with the elderly, infirmed and those who have mental handicaps (I would say mentally retarded, but the PC police are probably hanging around somewhere).

I've noticed that some of them can't speak clearly, and it's a stretch to understand them. Today, this was the case, as I took someone home that was mentally handicapped and you totally can't understand what he's saying.

So, I offer this guide from the conversations I had today for those of you in the health care field or perhaps those wanting to volunteer with the handicapped (which I've heard that volunteering is a great way to get laid).

First, listen for key words. You might not be able to understand every single word, but see if you can pick up on a key word that could clue you in to what's going on.

Today, I was nodding, and all I could make out was "A-beams", "1, 2, 3, 4, 5" and "pontoon boat."

Secondly, don't be afraid to ask said person to repeat what they said, just to make sure you heard the right thing. This will save you from looking like an ass.

Case in point, today I thought he said "Do you want a ball-point?" And I said "No, I already have a pen." And he said "No, a po-boy." I was way off.

See, never assuming you know what they said will save you from a situation where you think he's saying "This car is fast," when he's actually asking "Are you a facist?"

Lastly, when you can't understand anything at all, pretend to have a phone call, or have an actual phone call. Whichever works best for you.

Finally, as an aside, did anyone see Michael McDonald singing the national anthem before game 3 of the NBA Finals last night? "If I have to hear Yamo Be There one more time, I'm going to Yamo burn this place to the ground."

The events of Saturday night as told through quotes from the movie "Spaceballs"

2006-06-13T12:11:00.001-05:00

This should be fun. Leah and I decided to grab dinner before heading to my favorite Irish pub in the French Quarter. (Is it weird that I go to an Irish place in the French Quarter? Is that culturally acceptable?)

We're at Cafe Roma, around 10:30ish or so, and the Half Moon is right across the street. I look up after dinner and see a guy come out and start yelling at another guy who just got into car. The outside guy's friends are holding him back as the car speeds away.

Here's where the movie quotes kick in...

"We've been jammed. Strawberry!"

The guy outside of the car (we'll call him the victim), I notice his shirt is red, looking like someone dumped strawberry jam all over him. Then I notice it's coming from the back of his head. This is turning into the best dinner I've had since my grandfather accused me of being gay at Thanksgiving in 2002.

He sits down and a good samaritan (or a really large chick who was drunk and felt like she needed to give him first aid) sits down and starts taking the victim's pulse. I still haven't figured out why.

Leah says something about a tire iron. So, I have deduced that this guy got into a fight, the other guy came back in and whacked him over the head, then got the hell out of there.

"Listen, it's not that we're afraid, your majesty. Far from it. It's just that we've got this thing with death; it's not us."

The first NOPD officer to show up is female. She gets there about 5 minutes after this starts. She doesn't even get out of the car. She wants no part of this. She takes off. I figured an ambulance has been called, but it's been five minutes and no sign of said rescue vehicle.

"What did you find?" "Nothing, sir." "Nothing, sir." "We didn't find shit."

The second wave of NOPD show up. Two guys get out and get the story, then proceed to, what I like to call, slack-ass for awhile around the scene. Still, no ambulance, until 15 minutes later...

Ludicrous speed!

The ambulance shows up. The victim apparently has some really nice (or bored, or drunk) friends as one of them helps bring the stretcher out to the guy, then helps him on, then puts it back on the ambulance. All the while, one of the EMTs is on the cell phone, smoking a cigarette, probably asking his wife/girlfriend/life partner when the expiration date is on the milk in the refrigerator at home.

Ok, that's my story. It probably sucked because the more I think about it, the more I think it's a "you had to be there" kind of things. But, in hindsight, you're the idiot who spent 10 minutes reading it, thinking it would have some kind of redeeming value. You haven't learned yet that anything in my life has absolutely no redeeming value.

I pity your exsistence.

Dispatches from a coffee shop in Slidell...

2006-06-01T10:12:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the wonderful world of working on the road. I'm at some coffee house in Slidell. Like any good man in a relationship, I'm just using her for the free internet. To hell with her coffee, it does nothing for me.

Let me add something to the long, long, my God, long, list of things I dislike. Loud crying babies in public. I know babies are going to cry and a moderate volume is reasonable. But, sweet Jesus in the morning, if this baby sitting at the table next to me doesn't shut up with this jet-engine style crying, I'm going to let a few explitives fly.

Here's something that should warm your heart: Hurricane season started today. Am I worried? No.

I got a little homesick yesterday for Hattiesburg. A putrid smell filled the air all night around my house in New Orleans. Reminded me of when I could smell the chicken plant when I lived downtown in Hattiesburg.

Yesterday at work, an old man asked me to dump his urinal cup out in the bushes for him. Seriously, it's a glamourous job, so much so that I think I need groupies.

Finally...

2006-05-25T20:03:00.000-05:00

Some random thoughts as I consider how I'm going to evacuate New Orleans or buy a boat for the hurricane season...

I can't tell you how much I feel like a bad-ass when I'm driving my company car (a 2004 Crown Victoria) and "Hypnotize" by the Nortorious B.I.G. is blaring. It's just so great and bad-ass and just...bad-ass.

Going to Jazz Fest, good. Almost getting arrested at Jazz Fest, wouldn't recommend it.

The complete opposite of what you think has happened...I actually go out LESS in New Orleans than I did in Hattiesburg. Money is a factor. Having the hours of a normal operating human being is probably contributing too.

I've yet to play Powerball.

I've yet to eat really good creole/cajun food since I've been here.

I haven't picked up a "yat" accent yet, but I am starting to say "How you makin'?" a lot.

Apparently in the past two months I've started to "make" groceries.

There's a five-pound tub of cookie dough in my fridge that I bought from some woman at work who was selling if for her kid's school. What am I going to do with it? Probably gain about 20 pounds.

There's an expiration date on milk for a reason.

The fact that I have the entire first season of "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia" on my video iPod makes me more horny than any woman ever could.

That above statement is not really true.

Who am I kidding? Yes it is.

Now that I've finally updated, I think I'll do it more often, because I know people who read this have nothing to do.

This is bowling. This is not 'Nam.

2006-03-09T21:11:00.000-06:00

Hey, I'm still alive.

So, only 48 more hours left working at the ole newspaper and then it's off to New Orleans for fun and 24-hour drinking. Then my liver will fail and I'll be thankful I took the new job that offered health insurance. Indulgence...pass it on.

We had a fabricated news story today and it made me thankful I was in the newsroom during the day, which is unheard of for me. There was severe weather coming and the newsroom was abuzz with activity because our lovely executive editor thought it would be catastrophic. I smelled the stinch of a far-fetched awards entry if the storm materialized. Then, it rained. That's it. And the thought of more awards for our executive editor went up in smoke. I laughed out loud, because honestly, are they going to fire me? I'm quitting Saturday anyway.

On the "soon to be in New Orleans" front, I was reading up about the mayoral race I'll probably get to vote in down there come April. Ray Nagin is running for re-election. I was thinking today if I should vote for him or not. On one hand, I think he's way over his head with this Katrina thing. He doesn't know what he's doing. On the other hand, I wouldn't mind having him around for four more years to see what kind of crazy shit he'll say or do.

I compare it to this: everyone has that one friend in their group they don't like. The person gets on everyone's nerves, but, you keep him around. Why? Because, when you go out drinking, you know he'll do something crazy or say some stupid shit that your whole group can talk about for weeks and months to come.

Ray Nagin is that person. No matter how much you cringe when you hear that he's joining in on the night out, you know something entertaining will happen.

He just might have my vote.

Give me something to break

2006-02-22T01:08:00.000-06:00

Being at home feels like I'm about 13. But, I'm 24...and my little brother is 18, but we act like we're both stupid 14 year olds when we're in the same house together.

Tonight, we're both kicking the soccer ball in the house. Nothing big, just back and forth, and that's when the contest starts. At one end of the house where our rooms are, there's a long hallway, about 25 feet long. But, there's a big cabinet thing that holds my mom's trinkets or whatever the hell they're called. It's about halfway down and there's two doors at each end of the hallway.

I tell Craig I could kick the ball from his room into the door of the room at the end of the the hallway. Again, this is 25 feet away and I haven't played soccer since high school. So, I kick, and it hits a wall, and bounces right into my mom's cabinet, hitting a cermanic angel.

We go to our rooms and hide, laughing our asses off. We come out, see our parents aren't awake and the angel survived, and Craig decides to try it. He does, it richochets off the wall and into a table on the other side of the room. Same thing, we run, laugh, then try it again.

This time we get about 10 feet from the open door and see there's nothing in the room at the end of the hall. We decide to "kick the hell out of the ball" as Craig puts it. I'm first and I miss, hitting every wall and non-open door in the away like a pin-ball machine. It makes a loud crash like someone is running into the walls at full speed. Craig does it, and it goes into the room, only to hit the window. It didn't break.

My mom finally wakes up and gets on to us and tells us to go to bed.

Looking back, I feel like I'm in the 9th grade again. Minus the curfew.

Hi I'm 24 and live in my parent's garage

2006-02-20T04:53:00.000-06:00

So, night one of living with the parents. It's not bad considering I know I'm only going to be here for three weeks until I get to NOLA. So, I think I can handle this, except one thing I found out tonight.

My little brother's girlfriend is living here. Huh? Why was I not afforded this luxury when I was his age. Oh yeah, that's right, I never had a serious girlfriend until college. As you can see, he got all the debonaire genes in the family. I can just write. That's it.

I feel like I'm living in the hospital here. My step-dad has random blackouts, my mother has a broken ankle and my little brother had cat scratch fever last week. When they find the first case of bird flu in the America, it'll be on Mini Farm Road in northern Forrest County.

Russ and I had a good time tonight. We went to Starbucks and got coffee, then went to JavaWerks and drank it on their little porch thingy. Looking back, we were highly amused, yet the only ones who got the joke. As your reading this, you probably don't get the joke either, therefore, leading me to believe it was bad joke.

It's official...

2006-02-16T16:43:00.000-06:00

Move date to New Orleans...

March 15.

So, let's start a countdown...hold on I gotta count...

...

...

...

27 days until the move.

Our house...toward the end of our street

2006-02-16T03:08:00.000-06:00

Since I'm moving out of here (the house) in a few day's time, I figured I'd write about a few of my favorite random moments in my about year's worth of time living here...

Refrigerator Baseball

Fairly self-explanitory. Old food plus baseball bat plus front yard multiplied by alcohol equals...fun at 2:30 a.m.

Jackpot!!

At 2 a.m. on my 24th birthday (well they day after, the birthday celebration) we all head back here and someone decides to pick up beer. Well, everyone does. Someones (for good measure will remain nameless, but you know who you are) comes with a case of bottled beer and just dumps it into the cooler...cardboard packaging and all.

A few minutes later, said person wants a beer, can't find it, then opens the cooler she just dumped beer into and yells, "Jackpot!"

After that, we had beer in abundance at our house for about five months. We just finished it off a few weeks ago.

Unexpected maids

It was about 10 a.m. one morning, and I'm just walking through the house in my underwear. I hear the door open and dash back to my room, and the maids that showed up to clean the house got a good blur of me in my underwear.

New Year's Parties

The 2004-2005 new year's party was fun. Fireworks, drinks and me throwing up at the end of the sidewalk because the bathroom was taken.

New year's 2005-2006 featured soft-core Cinemax-style porn and loud booty music. There was almost a fight and that was almost cool.

I'm sure I'll think of more as time goes on.

Winner, winner, chicken dinner

2006-02-14T04:26:00.000-06:00

Why is it I can't hear out of both ears now? Is my doctor getting paid big bucks to not get me better? Bastard. I'm trying to figure out if I'm talking too loud, or not loud enough when talking to people. All I can hear is myself. When I breathe, it sounds loud. My heartbeat sounds loud. Am I typing too loud?

Also, why is it that I can't find an 11-volt AC adapter in this town?

As I read back over that last sentence, I realize how sad and strange my life really is and wondering why I'm not doing anything for Valentine's Day.

Now, considering I have 13 channel of television entertainment at my disposal, I've been watching the Winter Olympics late at night. Curling came on tonight. I still haven't figured out the strategy behind it. I understand it's shuffleboard on ice, but I haven't figured out the method.

I'm having to use dial-up internet for a few days. I need a new AC adapter as mentioned above because the one for the cable modem shorted out the other day. I'm back to my old days of trying to pirate a wireless internet connection from somewhere in the neighborhood. I picked up something, I don't know where it came from, but it comes and goes. And, I have to lay off my bed updside down and hold the computer about a foot over my head at a 48-degree angle to get it to pick up. Eventually, I start losing consciousness and have to sit upright and use dial-up again.

And remember on this lovely V-D (that's right, I abbreviated it V-D)...

Marriage is punishment for shoplifting in some countries.

Do not taunt Dick Cheney

2006-02-13T01:41:00.000-06:00

I know what you're thinking: "Did he fire six shots, or only five?" Well, to tell you the truth in all this excitement, I've kinda lost track myself. But, being this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: "Do I feel lucky?" Well, do ya punk?

(In case you didn't know, Dick Cheney shot a guy.)

Get ready for locusts

2006-02-11T03:09:00.000-06:00

Friday, February 10, 2006

5.2 mag earthquake 165 miles south of NOLA
Federal seismologists report that an earthquake measuring 5.2 on the Richter Scale has occurred in the Gulf of Mexico, centered 165 miles south of New Orleans late Thursday night.

Cool?

Or are we getting a natural disaster sampler platter?

Color sucks

2006-02-10T03:18:00.000-06:00

I changed my blog and picked the most uninteresting background ever. Maybe you'll start paying attention to the words now.

Please forgive me if I left your blog off of my new "Links" section. Bring it to my attention and I'll fix it in a few weeks.

So, I got the job in New Orleans, at least that's what it seems like. I'm turning in my notice here and everything. This will be the fourth time I've left. Will I be back the fifth time at the newspaper? Let's start taking bets, and if so, when?

No side effects from the medicine, except that it doesn't work. My ears are still stuffy and I can't hear. It's everything I hoped it would be.

I'll have something better to post when I can think about something besides how I can hear.

Twat?

Twat? I can't finger out what you're saying. I have an ear infuction but tits ok...

2006-02-08T22:17:00.001-06:00

I really do have an ear infection. I have two actually. True story...

My hearing has been muffled in my left ear since last Thursday because of the lovely head cold I had last week. So, I scheduled a doctor's appointment for today and last night, my right ear starts, hurting. When I say hurting, I mean hurting like a nasty little bitch. So bad, that I was getting dizzy and it felt like I just got off a merry-go-round going 50 mph. So bad, I was in tears.

So, I tell my doc about that this morning and he said "oh, you had a case of vertigo." So, the U2 song has been stuck in my head all damn day.

"Hello, hello...
(Hola!)
O'Rear had vertigo...
(Donde esta?)"

So, he gives me Allegra D, prednesone and anantibiotic. But, this is unlike any antibiotic I've ever seen. It's in powder form and it's only one dose, instead of several over a week. You add water and chug it. So I did. It said it was Cherry-Banana flavor but it tasted suspiciously like shit. I had my doubts.

So, after I take it, I look at the package, and notice the side effects: (see list below)

12% - diarrhea/loose stools
4% - nausea
1% - headache
1% - vomiting

I dont' know which one I want yet. I'm rooting for headache and vomiting. I always root for the underdog.

Mayor Wonka and the Chocolate City

2006-01-18T17:56:00.000-06:00

I found this column today in the Times-Picayune regarding the whole Nagin and the "chocolate city" comment from Monday. Good stuff.

Chris Rose

I wake up in the Chocolate City mad as hell.

It's like this: I'm supposed to be on vacation this week, cooling my heels, and then our mayor, Willy Wonka, loses his grip in public again and that's hardly headline news in and of itself, but this time he really lets one go.

I mean, he really gasses the place up, if you know what I mean. Now, how am I supposed to sit this one out?

First thing I do, I follow the mayor's lead and call Martin Luther King Jr. Of course, it takes a while to get through because he died in 1968 so he still has one of those avocado green rotary dial phones on his kitchen counter and no call-waiting.

As you might imagine, his line was pretty tied up Tuesday morning.

"King!" I holler when I finally reach him. "What in blazes are you thinking? You're writing speeches for Wonka, and the best you can come up with is 'Chocolate City'? Meet me at CC's Coffee House, bruh. Pronto. We gotta talk."

"I'm tired," he complains. "I had a big day yesterday."

"We all had a big day yesterday, King," I tell him. "Eleven o'clock. Be there."

Then I call God.

Of course, my call gets answered on the first ring, but it's some lackey working out of a phone bank in Singapore. We tangle a bit; she's giving me the runaround about him being busy and can she help me, and I'm wondering: What's with authority figures these days?

"Just who does he think he is, he can't take my call?" I say. "What, He's Dan Packer now? PUT HIM ON!"

I finally get him, and I calm down a bit because he's got that comforting voice, kind of like Barry White, but I'm still all dandered up and I tell him: "11 o'clock, CC's. We gotta talk."

He starts to make excuses, tells me he's got lunch at Ruth's Chris with Pat Robertson, but I'm all over him like white on rice.

Unless it's brown rice, of course.

I suppose it could be brown.

Anyway, I wear him down and he finally admits that he thinks Robertson is a lunatic blow-hard who's always asking God to take out some foreign leader or burn down a place like Oklahoma because there are sodomites reportedly living there, so he says to me: "All right. Chill, amigo. I'll be there."

So me, King and God all meet up and I'm ready to tear into these guys about the advice they're giving Mayor Wonka, who's gone all Shirley MacLaine on us and has had almost five months to compose himself since his multiple-meltdown and the best thing he could come up with was this?

We're standing in line to order, and I let loose: "All right, you knuckleheads, which one of you wrote the 'Chocolate City' thing?"

They are aghast at my strong language, "knucklehead" being the harshest term our mayor can come up with to describe the dirtbag, scumbag, dope fiend gangbangers who have run roughshod over this town for the past decade making us the Killing Fields of America.

Knuckleheads. Yeah, that's great, like they're the Three Stooges now. "Hey, I'm gonna cap yo ass with my 9. Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk."

Anyway, King waves me off. "Can we order before we get into this?" he says.

The barista, one of those bright and perky UPTOWN people -- and I think you know what kind I mean -- says "Hey, guys, what can I getcha?" and sure, she acts all Ladies' Auxiliary toward us but we all know -- me, King and God -- that all this white girl really wants is to grab up as much property as possible in the Lower 9th and build a couples resort and day spa.

Me, King and God -- we're not stupid.

King orders first. "Coffee," he says. "Black."

Well, do I need to tell you: The whole shop is paralyzed into the most uncomfortable silence you ever heard.

"Jesus!" I mutter under my breath, and God pokes me in the eye. "Watch it, knucklehead," he says.

The barista, she goes, "nyuk, nyuk, nyuk," and I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have gotten out of bed; I should have just stuck to my original plan to meet Kafka for racquetball at noon.

Coffee. Black. This King guy, he just doesn't get it. Then it turns out he's just joshing around. Suddenly he breaks the uncomfortable silence and screams: "I'LL HAVE A CREAM!"

And he starts wagging his finger all around like he's back at the Lincoln Memorial, and he starts yelling: "And my children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their coffee, but by the content of their character."

God, he cracks up at this. He starts nudging his elbow into my side and he's practically got tears in his eyes.

"What are you, Chris Rock?" he says. "That's hilarious, King. You are one loco dude!"

They do that knuckle-knock thing, and God orders. Café au lait -- who would have guessed?

So we sit and I ask them: "Guys, what's the deal? Wonka says he consulted with both of you before that blasted speech yesterday. Tell me you're not behind this Chocolate City thing. It's tearing us apart!"

King falls silent; he's eyeballing all the Uptowners like they're going to steal his hubcaps.

God pipes up: "Listen, hombre. Me and King, we had nothing to do with that speech. We told Wonka to go with a unity theme, black and white together as one. We did have this thing about Oreos in it, but we scratched that long before the final draft.

"Your boy, Wonka, that was all off the cuff, man. Extemporizing, you dig? He was off the script on that one. Completely off the reservation."

This gets King's attention. There's another uncomfortable pause as the whole place goes mute again.

"Sorry, cats," God says. "Poor choice of words. My bad. But listen: You people have got your race thing so screwed up down here that even I'm having trouble concentrating. You've got to get your house in order, folks. Your boy Wonka is walking around tossing matches on kindling. If you don't watch out, the whole place is gonna blow.

"And that will put us all out of work," he says, and he pushes his chair back and stands up.

"Gotta vamoose, bruh!" He says. "Been real, but there's mucho work to be done in the Chocolate City. Hasta la vista."

Silence again.

"All right, I'll take the bait," I tell him. "What's with all the gringo lingo?"

He looks at me like I'm crazy. He reaches into his wallet, grabs a card and hands me one before he rolls out the door.

The card, it says: "God & Sons Roofing. Reasonable Rates. Fully Insured. Habla Español."

I look at King. I stutter, "Did you know. . .?" But he's just shaking his head at me.

"Go figure," he says. "But it makes sense, when you think about it. His son's name is Jesus. The stepfather was a carpenter. All of them living in a Kenner hotel without electricity and running water like it's no big deal. It just goes to show, you never can tell. I guess you really need to be careful about what kind of assumptions you make about people."

We both take a sip and pause for a moment, and he adds: "And God, for that matter."

I nod at him over my tall glass of milk. "Now you're talking, King," I tell him. "Now you're talking."

Enjoy

2006-01-16T03:50:00.000-06:00

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

Where are all the loose women my pastor told me about?

2006-01-09T03:06:00.000-06:00

That happens to be one of my favorite quotes from New York. Speaking of which, it feels good to do this stupid thing again and not write about what I actually did during the course of a day.

My lands, Urban Dictionary is one of the most entertaining, time-consuming website I've ever bookmarked and put in my favorites list. Here's my favorite entry from my hour or so of clicking the random button tonight...

JEEZIE C. - The hip and funky-fresh name of Jesus Christ.

"Yo, I was chillin' with Jeezie C when I OD'd last night. He's a cool guy and he's got it goin' on without bein' all up ins in all the wrong places. Know what I'm sayin' G?"

"No."

I having nothing interesting to post, just this picture of Burt Reynolds. I'm bored.

Big Damn Christmas Journey – Days 4-8

2006-01-05T04:02:00.000-06:00

Nobody bothered to tell me that internet connections in NYC cost $10 or so a day. Considering I didn't want to pay that, I'm doing one big, huge update now that I'm home. I'll pick up with the rest of day 4 overall.

Get comfortable, this'll take awhile.

New York City – Day 2

The transit strike is finally over. Thank the God. But, the trains won't start running until tomorrow morning so we're still having to walk around.

Letterman was cool. The theater is a lot smaller than you're led to believe on television. I had seats on the aisle right at the spot where he comes out and does stuff with the audience, like Know Your Current Events. If he would have come out in the audience that day, I would have been on television, but he didn't, so screw him. Jamie Foxx is a lot shorter in person too.

After that, we fiddled around for awhile and ended up at a bar called Scruffy Duffy's on 6th Ave. about three blocks off Times Square. The whole time, I drank beer and overheard a guy next to me tell a girl next to me that he didn't appreciate her making out with another guy the other night because he liked her. He thought it was uncalled for. She didn't. I realized that drama exists in New York City as well. I had to laugh at the whole thing.

Me and Golden Tee in New York City...

I called the city's action line and found out cab fares would be normal again after midnight so we sat around the Times Square McDonald's until 12:30 then asked a NYPD officer where a good dance club would be. He told us the Meat Packing District. I thought he was refering to the gay district, but apparently it's what it's actually called.

We get a cab and go down there and find the first club, but can't get in without a date or without a girl with us. We go to another, stand for about 30 minutes, and then realize we're not getting in because Jamie Foxx is having a party in there. This is where it gets fun.

We spot a trendy looking hotel with a doorman. Russ tells us to wait on the street to see if we can get in. A few minutes later, Russ leans out of the door and waves at us. We walk in and doorman says "just push PH for penthouse when you get in the elevator." I look at Russ with the "what the hell did you say to him?" look. He tells me to shut up.

Upstairs is a 24th floor rooftop bar. It's trendy and swank and expensive. There's a pool up there and only one beer on tap, Heineken. I order one and the bartender says it's $10. I shed a tear as I gave a $20 to him. It's a small glass, and I proceed to drink the beer for about two hours.

The beer you see in my hand is said $10 beer that's two hours old at this point. I don't feel as bad as Russ and Ras, they paid $14 for a crown and coke...each.

New York City - Day 3

Transit strike is over. The first thing we do (after showering and the like, not together, sorry ladies), is go down to the station and buy our Metropass and hop on the train. Our plan, head to the financial district to see Wall Street. Our inadvertant destination...Brooklyn. I have no idea how that happened but Russ didn't navigate after that point.

All hope was not lost, as we ended up at the stop where Junior's is in Brooklyn. New York is known for cheesecake. Junior's is know for having the best cheesecake in the world. After getting a super-size piece of cake and eating it all, I got a stomach ache on the subway ride back to Manhattan. That was some damn good cheesecake.

Another good aspect of the transit strike being over is that I could go to Brooklyn (on purpose this time) to see my old friend LeAnne, who I used to work with at the American.

We did just that. That night, we rode the F train (F is for Fun) to Brooklyn, went to her restaurant were she works and ate while we waited for her to get off work. I took a shot. It was fun for about 3 seconds. I didn't get sick, but I wanted to. After that, we went to a neighborhood bar, that wasn't too hopping, so we decided to get a case of beer and go to LeAnne's to drink. At her place, we proceed to talk about politics, religion and sex. I tried to intermingle the topics at once, but that didn't work. We passed out at LeAnne's that night.

Russ talked me into doing my collar the trendy way, outside of my blazer...

New York City - Day 4 (Christmas Eve)

I had one of my early morning, half-awake half-asleep freak outs this morning. LeAnne has hardwood floors and I woke up on it. I thought I was at my house. Then realized I didn't have a view of a 10-story building and a water tower out of my window. I promptly went back to sleep.

We woke back up and went back to the hotel in Manhattan, althought I think I was awake and walking, yet still asleep. Here, enjoy this unflattering picture of the author early in the morning in Brooklyn.

Notice the same clothes from the previous night. I think I frightened the natives.

Christmas Eve in New York really didn't feel like Christmas Eve, but yet was eventful. First, after going to the hotel, we went to the World Trade Center, which, to say the least was very sobering. In my opinion, no matter what your political stance is, you should visit that site at least once in your life. There was still the cross from the beams left on the site, along with other construction going on.

After that, it was to CBGBs, where I got the obligitory t-shirt. Talk to the owner, or one of them, in the bar and they told me they are definately getting evicted come October. They are planning on another location in New York then one in Vegas. After that, it was to "The Nexis of the Universe." Fans of Seinfeld will get that. It's the intersection of 1st St. and 1st Ave. It, to be honest, was like a huge paradox. I felt I entered another dimension. Then, I felt like an idiot for staring at street signs for 10 minutes.

Then, there was Little Italy and China Town. A lot of italians and chinese in these sections, so I guess those aren't just clever names.

Back to the room, change clothes, then out for the night. LeAnne joins us by riding the F (for Fun) train. Then, we go to the lower east side, get there, walk in, doorman asks for my ID...only to figure out I left it at the hotel...50 blocks north.

I promptly hail a cab, grab my ID, then ride the F (you should know what it stands for by now) train back down to 4th St. We start off at a place called Off the Wagon, then go to a place called Cafe Wha? The name alone made me want to go in. It's crowded but there's a kick-ass band.

Beforehand, they're playing music on the loudspeakers and "Jump Around" by House of Pain comes on. Ras starts making that high-pitched noise in the song, and I captured it on camera for all future generations to enjoy.

Night ends, it's Christmas already.

New York City - Day 5 (Christmas Day)

Rain.

God hates me.

But, to start off Christmas Day the right way, I did a pole dance in an empy subway car.

I'm sure if there were women in there, they would have throw their bras at me...or vomited. Same reaction either way.

Central Park doesn't seem as beautiful in the rain, but it still is. We go to the Imagine memorial for John Lennon and meet the unofficial mayor of Strawberry Fields. He's a cool guy.

Then, we walk around and get soaked.

Back to the hotel once again, change, then off to Little Italy for Christmas dinner that evening. Our subway station was closed by our hotel. We have to walk to Times Square to get a train downtown.

Then, we walk around and get soaked.

Christmas dinner was nice. Whatever I had was very good. I can't remember the name of it. Wish I would have written it down. But, our waiter did manage to catch this Christmas card moment...

After that, we tried to find a bar open to get a drink. But, there's nothing open. So...

Then, we walk around and get soaked.

I pack my clothes once back in the room and get ready for the flight home. I fall asleep on the air mattress that won't stay inflated, but, as I mentioned earlier, God hates me and never wants me to sleep on an inflated air mattress.

New York City - Day 6

The flight back to New Orleans. It was on an airplane. I sit beside someone who, for lack of a better term, is large. Large enough to have a seat belt extension and to keep the arm rest between me and her up the whole flight. Now, I'm not being mean, but at this point I want to be because I've been on the road for 8 days and I'm working with fumes here. I fall asleep on the plane, thank God.

So, there you have it, the rest of my New York City trip. I know, I didn't post many pictures of the landmarks of New York. The way I see it, you can do a Google image search for that stuff. I just wanted to show my odd portions of the trip.

If you really want to see the touristy shit, I can e-mail you the picture, but, I promise, it looks the same from my camera as it does every other camera in the world.

Big Damn Christmas Journey – Day 4

2005-12-22T13:59:00.000-06:00

Better late than never but...here we go...

Lafayette, La. – Day 4

Ah, who gives a damn? Let's move on to...

New York City – Day 1

Well, I'd bitch about how bad it is walking everywhere, but, I'm watching TV now and the transit strike is officially over. For all of you who sent me those lovely reminders about the transit strike and felt like you had to rub it in I had to walk in the cold, you can eat it. I still love you but I'm riding the subway.

Anyways, trip started out in typical fashion for any kind of big trip I take. We're at the airport in Newark and there's no way into the city but by car. We plan on getting a taxi, but this orthodox jewish man stops us and ask us to ride with him so he can have four people in his car and get into Manhattan. He said he'd charge us $60, instead of $80 from a real cab.

It was fun, he taught us curse words in yiddish and hebrew the whole way. Other than that, we didn't do too much for the first night, we just walked around and planned out our next four nights, which will have to be replanned because the subways are back up. We'll see how that works.

Anyways, there will be more to report after tonight. I'm headed to the Letterman show in 30 minutes to get in. For Niki, since we wanted pictures, here's my first NYC picture. Enjoy.

3 shopping days until Christmas, bitches...

Big Damn Christmas Journey – Slight Update

2005-12-21T21:47:00.000-06:00

I'm in New York City now. I'll have the first day's blog up soon, I hope. I working out internet kinks here.

Big Damn Christmas Journey – Day 3

2005-12-21T01:14:00.000-06:00

Lafayette, La. – Day 3

I'm not posting for long. It's too late and I have to get up too early.

Here's a quickie recap...

Bowl game - Cold
Post game interviews - Cold
Jeff is now - Cold

I'm ready to take on NYC tomorrow by foot. As Ludacrus just said above me on a television playing BET: Don't be skurrred.

Big Damn Christmas Journey – Day 2

2005-12-19T23:31:00.000-06:00

Lafayette, La – Day 2

It's not a good end to the day when you go into the work center at your hotel and see that the transit workers in the city you will be in 48 hours from now are on strike. Merry Christmas, Jeff. Dammit.

Anyways, Lafayette is still...well Lafayette. Let me recap the day here.

First, I almost overslept Arkansas State's practice. Good start to the day. Then, that's when the fun starts.

They started early, then I stand on the field, just wanting one little quote for a 5 paragraph story I had to send back to Hattiesburg. The practice goes an hour long, and it's about 40 degrees inside the stadium. Well, 40 degrees without the wind. Considering the stadium is in a bowl, the wind whipped around and made it seem like 25 degrees. Well, of course, I'm pissed. Then the coach ends practice, and all I want is one quote. He says the team needs to go back up to the locker room, get dressed and come back for a team photo. Fine.

Then, after the team photo, I try to grab him, then he said "let's go back up to the interview room to do this."

My vocal response: "Yeah, coach, that's cool."

My mental response: "DUDEWHATTHEFUCKI'VEALREADYSTOODOUTHEREFORANHOURANDAHALFANDALLIWANTITONEDAMNQUOTEANDI'MFREEZINGMYBALLSOFF!!!!!!"

So, two hours for just one stupid quote. I passed the time on the field looking at Louisiana-Lafayette's scoreboard. Their mascot is the Ragin' Cajuns. The board said "Louisiana's Ragin' Cajuns." I thought, are they ragin' as in mad, or ragin' as in drunk? That question will bother me for years.

I'm going to bed before watching more CNN makes me cry over how much I'm going to have to walk in NYC.

Big Damn Christmas Journey – Day 1

2005-12-18T19:01:00.000-06:00

Lafayette, Louisiana - Day 1

There's not much to report. I woke up at 8:30 a.m., cleaned out my car, packed the rest of my stuff, then headed to Lafayette, which took about 3 1/2 hours.

I covered Southern Miss practice tonight and I think I'm about go eat.

I know, this travel journal is off to a rousing start, but hey, this was a travel and work day. I have no pictures yet, but Lafayette isn't that picturesque to be honest with you.

I'm in the hotel lobby, the Days Inn to be exact. I'm telling you, for Gannett being one of the largest media corporations in the world, they can really be shitty with the hotel accomdations.

I promise, pictures coming tomorrow, I'm just too tired, already, and the trip just started today.

It's starting already...

2005-12-15T03:54:00.000-06:00

Countdown to big damn 8-day Christmas journey: 3 days.

I always get sick before or after a big trip. I'm down to three days and I haven't gotten sick, yet Russ has gotten bronchitis. Damn.

I don't know what excites me more, knowing I'm 72 hours from being in Lafayette or 6 days from being in New York City. I'll have to ponder that some.

That fact that the New York City transit workers might go on strike tonight makes me think that I'll have a more fun time getting around Lafayette. I don't have enough money for 20 cab rides.

Who's a jigga what?

2005-12-05T03:30:00.000-06:00

My intentions of making this an entertaining, well-updated blog have failed on both ends. This is my first update in awhile. As Alex put it, I update this thing like Christ comes back a second time...never.

I leave for New York in 2 1/2 weeks. That's exciting, right? Sure.

Ah, to hell with it, I have nothing interesting to say right now.

Nevermind..

2005-11-10T13:25:00.000-06:00

She fell asleep last night. We're still on for tonight. I'm going to take a nap.

I knew it would happen...

2005-11-09T23:17:00.000-06:00

As the night progresses to now 11:17 p.m., I get the growing feeling I'm being stood up. I should have seen it coming, nothing ever lasts a week.

UPDATE 2:33 a.m. - Yeah, still no call back. I've been stood up. I'll hold off official judgement until tomorrow and I see if there's an official reason and if the date is still on for tomorrow (Thursday) night.

Yikes

2005-11-08T13:04:00.000-06:00

I cleaned out my car for nothing. I was going to go out with her last night but, dammit, I got off work too late. Damn Monday Night Football.

It's on for tonight though, after I get out of class and the like. I'm going to take a nap so I don't fall asleep on her.

Wow

2005-11-04T14:18:00.000-06:00

Ok, people who hang out with me in person all the time...

Let's go to the End Zone all weekend...here's why.

There's a college football pick 'em contest there every week during football season. The winner wins a prize of course. So, I've been doing this for three years now and haven't won. Well, last night I'm informed that I won last week's contest. And my prize...

$25 gift certificate to the End Zone.

So, uh, free drinks for me all weekend.

Catchy title

2005-11-03T13:01:00.000-06:00

After eight days off, here's the rundown...

Girl #1 - DEAD!
Girl #2 - DEAD!
Girl #3 - DEAD!
Neidermeyer - DEAD!

Not really dead, just the chances have become dead in the water. But, freak #1 still remains. I'm psyched.

Life lesson #1 - Buying drinks and other things from the Vietnamese store near my house is acceptable. Buying anything edible, like say, an Almond Joy or gum, don't do it. I bought possibly the oldest Almond Joy on the face of the earth today. Who knew coconut could be that chewy? It was so bad, that I put it down, and I was so offended, I made the Almond Joy stay on the floor board. It wasn't worthy of my front seat.

I'm going to go eat a bagel.

Smooth

2005-10-26T17:34:00.000-05:00

I just walked outside and what did I see...

That's right, an 18-wheeler stuck on the railroad crossing by my house. This is providing some extreme, and free, entertainment.

Oh sweet irony

2005-10-26T03:06:00.000-05:00

My life is eventful these days. The game plan for girl #1 is officially over. She's going to Orlando for an internship come January, so there goes that one. That now leaves girl #2 and girl #3. They'll retain their names. I've yet to decide if I want to envoke the Miss America rule saying if girl #1 can't fufill her duties then girl #2 takes over. It'd get confusing probably. Girl #2 will stay girl #2 for now. And freak #1 will always be the 33-year-old.

Saying that, met a girl out tonight and got to talking and I was thinking that this could go somewhere. She then informs me that she's leaving in January to take an internship...in Orlando. WTF??

My night was saved by the girls behind me in line at Taco Bell. As I was waiting, I heard loud "booty" music from the car behind me, realize the guy taking my money is staring at something, turn around and see these two girls out of the car and "shaking their asses" outside the car. The best thing is there were about 15 on-lookers just watching. It was like a rap video in my rear-view mirror.

Yeah, I guess you had to be there...

My sweet romantic teenage nights

2005-10-25T01:34:00.000-05:00

One of the most heart-warming yet creepy and awkward things in life is having a 33-year-old woman show up at your house at 11 p.m. on a Sunday night, drunk and probably looking to score (not talkin' 'bout drugs). It gave me the warm and fuzzies with a hint of nausea. High entertainment level. I felt like I was watching it all on a television screen. A 42" DLP high definition television screen. With 6.1 surround sound and a kick-ass woofer.

I've noticed I'm cursing more in my new blog than I did in my old one, but I haven't used the word fuck. There, that pretty much covers all of them.

For some reason I went on a domestication kick today. I decided to clean my room and some parts of the house. I'll probably make a good housewife one day. If I can only find a decent guy who doesn't want me for my hot ass. And look me in the eyes and not my chest douche bag.

So I cleaned up the home office (my new official name for my room) and it's amazing how much bigger it seems. And, I didn't know this, there's a hardwood floor in here. It's cavernous in the home office now.

Enjoy this visual representation of the fruits of my domestic labour (that's the British spelling, bitches)...

Before domestication

After domestication

The home office with fresh-made bed goodness

Today's sign of the apocalypse...

2005-10-21T19:02:00.000-05:00

Cone pizza.

I was bored this afternoon, watching the Food Network, and they had a segment about pizza in a bread cone. It was hailed as the wave of the future for eaters on the go. It's shaped like an ice cream cone and there's pizza ingredients in the middle and it's hand-helf.

I did some research, and got this from crispycones.com...

"Enter Crispy Cones. A reaction to the ever-changing needs of the nutritionally-minded consumer on the go."

My only question is this...when did a normal slice of pizza not become hand-held? How hard is it to eat a piece of pizza while walking? Pizza is the epitome of portable food.

Here goes nothing...

2005-10-20T18:05:00.000-05:00

I'm about to find out if hamburgers are a way to a woman's heart. I'm sure the woman would have to present to find out...or win.

Either way it should be a lot of fun.

(Then again, I've also heard going through the rib cage is the best way to the heart. I'll figure something out. This post took a morbid turn.)

What am I getting myself into

2005-10-19T12:08:00.000-05:00

So, the newer, improved, lemon-scented game plan includes me cooking dinner for a group of people Thursday night that includes the girl.

Good idea.

I have no clue as to what to cook yet or what I can cook. Am I shooting myself in the foot here?

It's like I was figuring last night...if I do well, good impression. If I burn it or whatever, bad impression.

I wish other things in life were like this. Say, if I cooked a meal correctly, I'd earn my degree...or something.

It's gotta be the shoes

2005-10-18T01:35:00.000-05:00

Albert Pujols made my night.

And, you have to respect a player that's as good as he is with a last name that could be pronounced "poo holes."

I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch

2005-10-17T20:19:00.000-05:00

The game plan has to come to fruition sometime soon. I was going to call today, that fell through. Now, I'm busy until Thursday, so I can't do anything until then. Damn.

My day was too long, I don't have much to write. Sorry, nothing clever to put on this. Thought I'd just tell you about the game plan, for lack of better things to write about.

...and I'm feelin' good

2005-10-16T03:48:00.000-05:00

I ran into an old friend at Mugshots tonight and we got to talking about friends getting married. She proceeded to tell me she didn't have a boyfriend, and I told her I was single as well. Then, she says "it's ok, our time will come. 30 is the new 20."

What?

Was my fax machine unplugged whenever this memo came through?

And what the hell does that mean?

Watch it, it's 50,000 watts of goodwill.

2005-10-14T17:54:00.000-05:00

Driving down Highway 11 today at around noon I realize I'm being tailed (not really tailed, but this guy is right on my ass) by a beat up, white old-school GMC pickup. Has to be about 20 years old.

Whenever this happens, I pray to the Almighty that the guy behind me up my ass will ram into me, proving that his tailgating is just a stupid attempt to show his manhood. It never happenes, until today, almost.

So, 11 is a two-lane highway, and this car in front of me stops short and Jethro in the truck behind me has to swerve into the other lane to avoid hitting me. Damn. If only another car was coming in the other lane, it'd have been sweet. Just once I'd like to screw someone who looks like he doesn't have an insurance plan on his car/truck and sees the need to ride my back bumper at 70 mph.

But, he probably didn't have insurance. He passed me when I stopped and I sped up to him to tailgate him back, his plate was from Jasper County. Figures.

I heart aggresive driving.

I'm not going to lie, that's smells like pure gasoline

2005-10-14T01:55:00.000-05:00

My game plan, which included asking this girl out early next week for a few drinks sometime next week, has been bumped up a few days.

She was over at Katrina's for dinner, and everyone else went to the Hippo so she stayed at the house to watch the kids. Cleverly, I did too. It's all some pretty debonaire shit from there.

Anyways, that's the gist. I'll ask her out this weekend if I see her, if not, I'll call.

Enough of that, here's something I want to talk about. We went from having just one chicken finger place in Hattiesburg to having three..almost overnight. I'm eating from Guthrie's right now, and damn, it's good. But, is Hattiesburg really a market where three sepatate chicken finger places are needed. I know some bigger cities with one chicken finger place. Just makes me wonder what the demographic make-up of Hattiesburg is.

Below you will find visual representation of said chicken finger dinner.

Wu-Tang...WU-TANG!!!!

2005-10-13T01:39:00.000-05:00

Why does my random feature on my iTunes never work anymore? This song I used to like has now become annoying. My iTunes has turned into a Top 40 radio station.

I had something very clever to write, but I totally forgot it...dammit...

Oh yeah, today my friend Erin posted in her journal a question asking if you have cyber sex would you have an EGasm? I promptly replied with the notion that if you were having cyber sex on an Apple computer, you have an iGasm.

(Thank you very much.)

Whose pumps are these?

2005-10-12T05:29:00.000-05:00

I've noticed I always update this thing between 1 and 3 in the morning. I could post what I do everyday here, but really, who gives a shit about school, naps and sports stats put on a page?

I think I might study abroad sometime soon, but, I figured the only place I could go is somewhere that speaks English. It's kind of pointless to learn to write in another language whenever I'm going to be writing in English. Or is it?

While you ponder that, enjoy this picture demonstrating the thickness of my wallet...

I heard the ladies like 'em thick.

Score one for the good guys

2005-10-11T04:43:00.000-05:00

I got a girl's phone number tonight that I should have gotten about a month and half ago. I also got a digital camera tonight too, so, I guess my collection of stuff just grew by two.

As for the girl, I got her number, left to go to the End Zone, and she was there. There's always that kind of nervousness whenever we talk, like you know you kind of like someone. It's there on her part to (at least I think), it's that nervousness where you smile the whole time you talk to them and you do that nervous laugh after everything they say. (Actually, that backfired on me once, cause the girl said her grandfather was in the hospital and I just was in the zone of nervous laughter. I think I might have pissed her off that night. Ah, high school.)

I'll figure out a good game plan for all of this because I've got all week to think about it. The industry standard of three days is in effect.

And I have to say this...cell phones have really taken some of the magic out of getting a girl's number. Used to, I'd get it on a napkin or a piece of paper, and it was like a trophy to show off to people. Now, it's more like "hey I got a girl's number. Hold on, let me scroll and I'll show it to you..."

I'll post random pictures from my digital camera soon. If they're naughty ones, I'll accept Mastercard and Visa.

Clean clothes are happy clothes

2005-10-10T04:08:00.000-05:00

I never knew how much joy having both a working washer and dryer at the same time could bring me until today. For the first time in two months, I did laundry at my house. Orgasmic? Not quite, but I do feel I'll be going to bed satisfied.

I figured now that I can wash clothes I can clean up my room sometime in the next three months.

What the hell...

2005-10-08T06:25:00.000-05:00

Welcome to my new blog, which I will update probably once every three weeks...and by update I mean put up links to things I find amusing.

The internets rule.