Any Given Friendster Bulliten, As Posted From The Laundry Room

There is a party going in my mom's laundry room right now. I had to sneak out to get away from the mayhem for a sec. The dryer is spinning some mad jeans action right now...serious old school ambient noise. It is HOTT. I have a sneaking suspicion that it is going to get even hotter before hitting that time of night. You know what I'm talking about.

The cool-down.

I am having a f*cking blast. F*cking great music and f*cking great people.
And who knows where the afterparty will be? The living room? Indianapolis? Whatever the locale it will most definitely involve some badass folding.
Avoiding wrinkles, yo.

byos(nuggles)
at least 40 more minutes until who knows??

Rad.

-jiltronizzlator

I wish I had a job where I could just name things, and they had to use whatever I dictated.

There would be a lot more kids named "Death Ray."

From a friend's livejournal, concerning the band !!!

It could be different live, they could blow me away. They could also blow like Jerry Garcia with an impacted molar.

God. I hate it when account management tells me how to write copy. I really don't give two shits what else they do so long as they leave the grammerizin' up to me. Only one of us has a masters in English around here and even though its not me, it sure as hell isn't you.

I'm pretty sure that they hire these people by driving a bus to sorority row at UGA and U of Florida and pick up any girlies who want jobs. Because, honestly, who needs experience when you own that many designer sweater sets?

Last night arounds 3am I dropped by the Echo Lounge en route to MJQ to pile my car full of Peaches' backup dancers, all of whom were drinking champagne out of glasses and decided at one point to throw the glasses out the window somewhere in East Atlanta. I then went to a party where a bunch of people were wearing nothing but underwear. I also met Evan Dando, who had tagged along with the Peaches entourage.

Peaches was very nice.
Evan sat and stared into space a lot.

In short, last night I partied with Peaches and Evan Dando. It was a very very odd night.

I have simply not felt like blogging today for some reason. A bit down, I guess, though nothing compared to how I felt on Saturday morning, where I didn't know where I wanted to be except away from where I was.
And for the last several days I've felt like I've been hit by a steamroller and have yet to be scraped off the pavement.
I've been kicking around the idea of detoxing since everyone else seems to be on that train these days...yeah. For real this time. Right.

Though if I do, remind me not to be a complete ass and start freezing out my friends.
I'm still human, you know, my feelings aren't as numb as yours seem to be.

The wonderful thing about this post is that who its for will never actually read it.

I am not smiling.

Some people say tuna salad and egg salad will not cohabitate.

I beg to differ.

We already have "Maximum Explosium 2" (In space, no one can hear you explode.)

Possible tag lines for the fake movie poster "Roboclash: The Reckoning"

"The final battle between good and evil. And robots."
"In the year 2525 only the ROBOTS will be alive."
"When the world is ruled by robots no one is safe except the robots."
"In the future the world is ruled by robots. Of death."
"Positively Robotic. Positively Maddening."
"They can't feel pain, but they can dish it out."
"Hot steel on steel action."
"These robots aren't going to heaven, they're going down."
"Where metal meets metal and makes loud clanging noises."
"Destruction. Robo-style."

Which one is your favorite?

Log #5883: weekend activities thus far.

acquired hiring status of one construction company.
began production on murder mystery/elevator disaster movie involving one stuffed animal of note.
noted stuffing loss on said movie star.
looked for a bench.
looked for a bench in the shade.
defended self from onslaught of strobe attack.
considered using a strobe attack during mystery/elevator disaster movie pivotal battle scene.

"what do you think, co-producer?"
"did you happen to see where I put my beer?"

You don't have to be clinically insane to work here, but it helps.
Which I guess explains why it's just us two. It gets so and so and so and so.

Explosium!

What can be done so that a girl can get some sleep around here.

The Inman Park Festival can take a long walk off a short pier or a short walk off a long pier- either way so long as they die a painful watery death in the death grip of ten sharks.

Then maybe a girl can get some sleep around here.

(you don't need that shoddily constructed yet strangely loud drum for the entire festival and for my sleepy ears to know that you are walking down the street. that pastel jumper resonates volumes.)

I'm meeting with clients from Ranstad soon. I really need to stop pronouncing it German-style, "ran-shtad" like the band "Rammstein."
Because they're going to be here in, like, five minutes.

The irony inherent in some panty raids.

"Why would she do that? Is she anti-panty? An antipantite?"
"One would assume."
"Wait do you even own underwear?"
"I have some around here somewhere."
"Maybe you could borrow some from Carrie."
"Oh hell. I don't think I could pull that off."
"..."

more coworkers e-mail chains
And for the record, I did not actually steal anyone's pen.

Subject: Jill just stole my pen

I just want everyone to know what kind of people we're working with.
-----
Carlos is telling all kinds of blasphemies and fabrications.
I just want everyone to know what kind of people we're working with.
-----
Both Jill and Carlos believe in late term abortions up until the child is twelve years old.
I just want everyone to know what kind of people we're working with.
-----
Billows never gives reach-arounds.
I just want everyone to know what kind of people we're working with
-----
REACH AROUNDS????
wow. you're a dirty boy. al, you wanna explain what a reach-around is to everyone?
-----
it's when your cubicle-mate borrows a pen or pencil and doesn't reach around to put it back on your desk.
-----
jill stole my virginity. it was kept in the garage next to my stolen pen collection.
and carlos stole my thunder.
i wasn't working at the time. but still!
-----
That was an accident- I was just looking for a pen.
-----
I still have my virginity. It hasn't done me much good, so Evan, you can have it if you want it.
-----
if you offer it, then i can't technically steal it.
-----
Man, I can't get rid of my virginity no matter what i do!

Last night I didn't want to go home because the idea of going to sleep seemed too fucking depressing, even though I needed sleep like crazy anyone in their right mind would have been sleeping anyways. So to alleviate my mild omnipresent depression, I watched 21 Grams.
What is the opposite of a genius grant? Because I need one of those.

So I ended up driving around the neighborhood, smoking cigarettes in a complete daze.
I really should not have been driving.

21 Grams was pretty good, by the way.

I was told that a friend of mine looked like John McEnroe.

So I did the research.



Yep. He does, indeed, look like John McEnroe.


(knowing the friend I'm referring to really helps with this post.)

As I am currently working on once and future projects, I will leave you with the following diversion:

(curse word)+(one-word product found at Home Depot)= brand new curse word.

examples= shithammer
fuckwrench
assmulch

have fun!

As Holly Golightly would say as putting on her oversized sunglasses, quelle night.

Quelle night, quelle night.

Changed links a bit...can't figure out how to get the right side border back. Can anyone help with that? Much obliged.

Trash this blog and win some dough.

Today is sort of blah.
Grey weather. Black shirt. Lunch sandwich. Blah.
Not enough is going on around here.
I need something to cheer me up.

...


Oh wait, I know.



Wait for it...wait for it...







It's the Toy Store Room from the classic Nickelodeon game show Finder's Keepers!

Oh yeah that's better. (sitting back, relaxing, bored again.)

I miss when all it took was television to entertain me. Were that the case nowadays I would probably have cable.
Television today needs less game shows based on singing and dancing competitions and more based on the premise of tearing shit up and getting all messy just for the hell of it.

Next time someone comments on my messy desk I'm going to tell them that there is a series of clues hidden beneath all the paperwork and if they could find all eight then they win a mountain bike.

From the desk of coworkers...
This e-mail chain started with my response to a nonfunctioning link sent to me about the Transformers.

Jill wrote:


Wow! My robot was disguised as a webpage that not only never appeared, but crashed (or DESTROYED) my internet explorer(bot) and my outlook(tacon) without warning. They just dissappeared. The song remains true- what met my eye was a simple link but there was so much more.

Into the clutches of this evil entity did my programs go, who I can only assume is Optimus Prime's extremely nerdy techhead sidekick- the transformer responsible for all those keyboard lazer sounds in the theme song.

And because the Decepticons took much more lucrative postitions being a fleet of H2s, the only enemy left is technology.

Or lack thereof.

I shall call him Commodorimus (64) Prime, and he shall live on a diet of two dimensional shapes that represent three dimensional foodstuffs.

Thanks Mark! I feel like a kid again!

(this is what happens when all your parents give you to play with is a footstool and a half-korean simon and garfunkle songbook...you think I'm kidding, but I can probably still recite every word to 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy).)

Evan wrote:

this is your task in the upcoming weeks, for whomever chooses to accept it.

i'd like an essay based upon the lyrical and time changes in the all-too-brief theme song.

to get you started, the regular common time of the first verse

Transformers
More than meets the eye
Transformers
Robots in Disguise
Transformers

(i believe it might be a variation on trochaic tetrameter)

But then it shifts gears DRAMATICALLY in a completely different time signature and meter. (anapestic pentameter?)

Autobots wage their Battle
To destroy the evil forces
Of the Decepticons

I'd like you to explore these changes, both lyrical and musical, their relationship to each other, and how in fact, it plays such a role in the life of the existentalist 'everyman.' (ie. wage their battle)

Bonus points for referencing the pre-crime and punishment works of dostoevsky.

Carlos wrote:
College boy.
Evan:
home schooler.
Carlos:
Book reader.
Evan:
glue sniffer
Carlos:
Imported cigarette smoker.
Evan:
monster truck t-shirt wearer.
Carlos:
Prog rock listener.
Evan:
HA. that's MATH rock, thank you very much. skoal chewer.
Carlos:
D&D player.
Evan:
mullet grower
Carlos:
Bumper sticker plasterer.
Evan:
cock-fight spectator
Carlos:
Hybrid car driver.
Evan:
1978 camaro on cinder-blocks in your front yard displayer.
Carlos:
Vegan.
Evan:
southern republican.
Carlos:
Non voter
Evan:
jesse helms disciple
Carlos:
Marijuana smoker
Evan:
doral cigarette smoker.
Carlos:
Non monogamous relationship haver.
Evan:
non-healthy-cousin-relationship-haver
Carlos:
Possibly-inappropriate-after-hours-intimate-conversation-with-Classics-professor engager.
Evan:
o'reilly factor 'believer'
Carlos:
Utne Reader reader.
Evan:
mobile home enthusiast.
Carlos:
Sandal wearer
Evan:
"dickies as my sunday wearin' duds" sporter.
Carlos:
Tofu "Rice Dream" dessert server.
Evan:
charlie daniels cover band singer.
Carlos:
Widespread all-3-nights New Year's Show attender.
Evan:
take your first date to captain d's doer.
Carlos:
First date at a Sylvia Plath reading meeter
Evan:
maybe-the-waitress-at-waffle-house-could-teach-me-how-to-read-wisher
Carlos:
Maybe-the-latte-girl-at-Aurora-will-be-impressed-by-my-arcane-knowledge-of-Life-in-Hell-comic-trivia-hoper.
Evan:
wary-of-people-who-aint-from-around-here-liver.
Carlos:
Exotic-yet-inedible-cuisine-for-the-sake-of-being-different eater.
Evan:
maybe-someday-i'll-leave-this-podunk-town-n-git-to-the-big-city:chattanooga-claimer.
Carlos:
Ironic-detachment-slowly-giving-way-to-actual-secret-interest-in-reality-show feeler
Evan:
'blowed up real good' quoter.
Carlos:
Wheat grass drinker
Evan:
imports-is-fer-communists-drawler
Carlos:
Facial hair grower
Evan:
male pattern baldness worrier.
Carlos:
Abstract art appreciator
Evan:
art's a queer man's pasttime confessor
Carlos:
I-think-the-artist-is-making-a-statement-about-the-role-of-women-in-today's-patriarchical-society-through-his-use-of-color-and-form sayer.
Evan:
god-gave-us-dominion-over-beasts-in-the-field'-and-that-includes-my-wife-preacher.
Carlos:
"Hey, a pasture. Let's go look for mushrooms on cow patties so I can see God again" thinker.
Evan:
" first it was evoltuion. then taking out prayer in schools, now it's 'under god,' from the pledge. them liberals is changin' things for the worser.' (sic)
Carlos:
"Grande skinny mocha latte with a shot of vanilla."(sic)
Evan:
dukes of hazzard, season two videotaper.

I am going to make a t-shirt with Darrin Stephens on it. I think he is highly under-represented in the world of t-shirts.

Maybe it's all the Buddy Holly.

Babies are the new white belt.

jill is getting a tennis lesson
jill is new thrill at indiana
jill is helping john get over that new headboard bill
jill is typo
jill is afraid of jack jack is more afraid of jill if jack thinks that jill thinks that jack is afraid of
jill is the alternative to the business
jill is the sole beneficiary
jill is so advanced
jill is my lover
jill is a barrister of lincoln's inn
jill is op vakantie geweest
jill is nude
jill is very confused right now because she really wants to end relations with leslie
jill is a conscientious student who has attained a satisfying result in this subject
jill is a management tool that can run a multi national company as well as a single operation
jill is a newlywed
jill is something for the entire family
jill is a published author of books for children and young adults
jill is a kickboxer with a professional record of 6 wins and 2 losses
jill is an accomplished writer
jill is an iub sophomore who was working at the student recreational sports center and was supposed to start w orking at camp brosius on june 4
jill is now catering to rodeo queen contestants
jill is seriously wounded by brigstine
jill is the speaker; let us consider
jill is proud to be the national director for american beauties plus
jill is a fabulous
jill is surprised when brian reveals that he's actually an illegal alien
jill is new thrill at indiana by aaron sharockman indiana daily student
jill is an accomplished musician playing guitar
jill is absolutely stunning in her tiger stripe halter top and shorts
jill is having a bit of fun dancing with someone not her husband
jill is an avid bicyclist and was dressed for it the morning she disappeared
jill is releasing two singles
jill is an excellent facilitator who exemplifies enthusiasm for her work
jill is special to me becuase she is my one and only internet friend
jill is keenly able to find harmonies and has found her own voice in acoustic rock
jill is sitting at a table alone
jill is the guy
jill is the president of trade wind investments
jill is fucking incredible
jill is a graduate of the university of massachusetts in amherst and the columbia university graduate school of journalism
ill is right handed apple
jill has decided to wear leather armor and will wear a steel cap
jill is the mother of emma and jamie and wife of dave
jill is reading some ho the riot act for trying to sniff all up to her man
jill is a milk & component queen
jill is a senior program officer with canada's mortgage
jill is president of meeting matters
jill is one of the new breed of insurance brokers
jill is pleased to bring you her take on the great debate
jill is the owner of the car
jill is my friend and her dolls are just the best
jill is the wife of our training director
jill is an instrumental artist who delights audiences with her meditative and deeply moving
jill is hot
jill is by far the best way to meet your real estate goals
jill is 20 years old
jill is 40
jill is so advanced
jill is truly a dietitian with a difference
jill is the premier software program designed to record all field
jill is also an accredited staging® professional tm
jill is the the second james patterson book i have read
jill is 12 now
jill is highly experienced
jill is indeed an asset at a closing

www.googlism.com
(no reason)

Sweet mother of cheese, I got a piece in the one show.
Free trip to NYC in May.

Keifer cares.

The AC is broken on my floor today. You know when a bad sitcom has a subplot where the AC is broken in the office and it provides the backdrop for which wackiness to ensue? It's kind of like that, but instead of wackiness we have staring at the computer. And considerably less polyesther.

Can heat+advertising cause delirium? Let's find out!

(oh and yes, the background pic is supposed to look like that. i dropped the opacity. right before droppin some f-bombs.)

who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of conciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus.
to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confesssing out the soul to confirm to the rhythm of though in his naked and endless head,
the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death,
and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio
with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years. -Allen Ginsberg


Write it on a cupcake because today blog dehumidifier is one year old.

Busy today...trying to get the hell out of here. Last night I thoroughly pillaged miss whitenoise's music files and downloaded some new stuff, some holes in the collection and some random wierdness:

Neutral Milk Hotel- In The Aeroplane Over the Sea
Skinny Puppy- The Process
Cleanse, Fold and Manipulate
Death From Above- Heads Up
Erase Errata- Other Animals
The Calculators- Circuit Breaking Silence
The Decembrists- Her Majesty, The Decembrists
My Bloody Valentine- Loveless
Some Milemarker (can't remember the title)
The Hot Snakes- Automatic Midnight
Wire- Pink Flag
Richard Hell- Blank Generation
Patti Smith- Horses
Yo La Tengo- I Can Hear The Heart Beating As One
Seachange- Lay of the Land
The Liars- They Were Wrong So We Drowned
Slowdive- Souvlaki
Primal Scream- Vanishing
Numbers- In My Mind All The Time
Buzzcocks- Singles
Sufjan Stevens- Enjoy Your Rabbit
John Cameron- Psychomania
Stark Reality- Discovers Hoagy Charmichael's Music Shop
Broken Social Scene- Feel Good Lost
Taxi Girl- Cherchez le Garcon
The Verve- Urban Hymns
Slow Reader- Slowreader
The Homosexuals- The Homosexual's Record
Dangermouse and Jamini- Ghetto Pop Life
Some random French pop from the mid-60s.

* * *

My art director was cleaning out his office earlier and gave me an old library book that he found under a giant mound of briefing forms. It is called "The Revised U.S. Edition of the Official Royal Canadian Air Force Exercise Plans For Physical Fitness." It claims to be two books in one. Which book you utilize depends on whether you are a man or a woman.
And utilize it I will.
You will not recognize me on Monday, for I will be fit. Royal Canadian Air Force fit. I will be showing you where the exits are located with the strength of a thousand gorillas.

And now, ladies and gentlemen: Friday afternoon traffic.

in reference to that bumper sticker "30307: It's not a zip code, it's a lifestyle!"

NEW BUMPER STICKERS

"30307- it's not just a zip code or a lifestyle, it's one giant condo!"

"30307- it's the newer, quirkier Marietta!"

"30307- like your teeth, we're getting whiter by the second!"

"30307- don't worry! soon Reynoldstown will be a Target!"

"30307- Follow Me to Front Page News!"

"30307- It's the edginess of midtown meets the property value of the Highlands!"

"30307- You're Next, Cabbagetown!"

"30307- It Will Be Post Seaboard Soon Enough!"

"30307- Do you like our attempt at hipness?"

"30307- Where Midtown Comes To Park For Slightly Cheaper."

"30307- If A Salesperson is Rude To You, Just Remember that This Zip Code is Busy Raising Their Rent As You Read!"

and finally

"30307- Now Available in Khaki!"

I-Chat or Poetry?

which is the fourth?
life and how to live it
(I think == that's the song i mean anyway)
right...I like the concept of that song
like what its about
it's their most "concept" record in their career I think
I want to find one of those books now
I have one (which I'm sure I've shown you)
i'm very proud of it
where did you find it?
no you've never shown it to me
i got it last fall
ebay
oh so you "found" it on "ebay"
like $100 or something.
cheater.
i'd been searching for one on ebay for weeks..so sorta
they're not easily found any other way I don't think
I want to just be walking down the street one day and trip over a copy.
i bought it from someone who bought it at wuxtry athens in the late eighties
yeah i wanted that to happen for about ten years..finally just bit the bullet
apparently you haven't walked down enough streets.
if there's anything to be learned from willy wonka and the chocolate factory it's some drawn-out metaphor comparing golden tickets and rare books.
ahha
and on that note I am going smoking.
emailed you
ok will check!
it's bigt
brb
big development
no!
now!
ok captain whinypants
see i never say 'brb' i just wander off
woah, what tha
did you rearrange?
have you been REARRANGING FURNITURE?
or did you move?
into your current house's evil but fun twin?
MY GOD THE UNANSWERED QUESTIONS!
Now see you've gone and got yourself lost. It's one of the side-effects of reanrranging.
isn't it crazy?
i'm very pleased w/it
yeah until you can't find your way back to the computer
did you injure your back last time you rearranged?
sorta
i just moved a small bookcase across my room
So one small bookcase=a week of pain, but entire roomfulls of furniture are no problem?
yeah
i just bent my back wrong that time.
I guess that explains the high illeteracy rate..
when you read you own books. when you own books you own bookshelves. when you own bookshelves you run the hazard of injuring yourself moving them.
got it
it's actually a one shelf nightstand w/no books on it but sort of a bookcase..that's why I wasn' thtinking right
gotta go
when are you back?
sun.
ok
til then
have fun getting married.
it's a promise

I just realized that I am 24.
R.E.M. is 24.
And I watch a show which is named "24."

I just figured out the unifying theory of life. I mean, the unifying theory of v+.

(i just need to work foreign policy in there somehow)

I simply do not understand how people can possibly get to work before 10am. First of all are the morning activities in which one must partake in order to be considered sane. Getting out of bed. Showering. Matching belt to shoes, etc. And if that didn't take long enough, there's hair gel. And picking out which cds to bring to work, and which one to listen to in the car. Then you have to nail the lamp into the wall, pick out a safety pin, leave stupid messages on a djs voicemail and gather the appropriate magazines to start the wall of stipe. And that's all before you get in the car! So it makes me wonder, when I see all the cars in the deck that got there before me, if they aren't being a little too haphazard with their safety pins.

Can someone please tell Brian to hurry up with the cigarettes?
Thank you.

A coworker calls this headline the most homoerotic ever.

This week is dragon like puff the magic.
Things that are delicious: pineapple, El Taco Veloz (despite the fact that the atmosphere screams "tapeworm! tapeworm!" and that it's not really that veloz. that was a damn good burrito.)
My posts are also dragon like puff the magic.


I (heart) misguided metaphors.

I think I am going to buy an MST3K dvd after work.

One where I am overdrawn at the memory bank.
It's "the movie that just keeps chucking rectangles at you."

My apathy is palpable.

My art director is putting golf balls in the hall, where I keep sticking my foot out and blocking them while telling him to "watch for hazards."
In other news, I am listening to "Milkshake" and dancing around the cube and I think we're about to go to Mellow Mushroom and I still think it's hilarious that there's an article about MJQ in Rolling Stone.

It's always nice when my nights out and about show up in Rolling Stone.
The sad part being it kind of sounds like every Saturday night, plus or minus the Jet factor.

Monday is...hmmm what should monday be...monday is Magnetic Fields Day!
Happy Magnetic Fields Day, everyone!

So far we have:
monday- magnetic fields
tuesday- herman's hermits
wednesday- TBA
thursday- TBA
friday- fugazi
saturday- TBA
sunday- rolling stones

The TBA will be A as soon as I damn well feel like it.
Now, in honor of Magnetic Fields day I shall sit fetal-style in the corner and cry myself into a restless nap, cigarette in full effect.

One day I am going to wear one of those ribbons people wear to support causes, and when someone asks what cause I'm supporting my answer will be "ribbons."

I am back.

I (heart) moon.

"It's too late, to fall in love with Sharon Tate." -Jim Carroll

Today I am wearing a vintage dress given to me by a friend. Though I'm not sure where she acquired it, I'm pretty sure someone made it from a curtain. Or material one would normally use too cover a couch, or lounge chair. I'm feeling rather like furniture.
And like I should be begging Clark Gable for money.

My unsubstantiated fear of flesh-eating viruses is back, thanks to 24. My coworker thought it would be a good last-day prank to release a flesh-eating virus into the ventilation system. I said no, a better one would be to actually move into the ventilation system in the ceiling, and then five years later jump down into your boss's office (castaway beard in full effect) and say "ha, joke's on you- I've been here the entire time!"

Last night I had a dream about doing ballet (en pointe- yes, I used to do such in real life) and when I woke up my feet were hurting.

This weekend I'm going to St. Simon's Island to stay at my friend's beach house. So I probably won't be blogging, which is a good thing judging from last Sunday's nonsense.

to hot wok!

suckfest.

Suicide Girls is a joke, right?

I mean, these girls can't really have self-esteems so low it bridges into extreme narcissism. "Hey. Check out my tattoos and ability to not wear that many clothes." Wow.

Yep. Must be a joke. (I know I'm laughing.)

More gratuitous bright eyes bashing
I bet Conor Oberst gets told to shut the hell up more than the average person.
Every time I hear Bright Eyes I picture malnourished indie kids in vintage glasses and chucks curled up sobbing in the corner of their dorm room in that way that emo kids do when they are reminded of the existance of a world outside their broken whiny souls.
Emo kids, do not attach your dreams to Conor. Granted he will write a sad song about you immediately after breakup, but later that evening he will write an even sadder one about an annoying hangnail.
I forsee him finally catching that special strain of STD that kills faster than the songwriting process.

I will not eat the doritos on my desk...I will not eat the doritos on my desk...

We had a fire drill this morning. And when I say "we" I mean all twenty floors of our building. It was delightful. The one morning I have two assignments needing to go to the NY creative director and- oh wait- the building's on imaginary fire! Run!

My BFF Sara called from Seattle last night, and is coming to visit her old stompin grounds here in the ATL in May. Yessssssss.

I suppose that's it for now.

(eating doritos)

Darts 'n Laurels

This weekend I made an awesome dress out of a large t-shirt and iron-on transfers of the Edie Sedgwick pic that's here on this blog in the upper right, and an Andy Warhol quote. People asked if I were getting ready to go to sleep. Yes, if by going to sleep you mean looking superfantastic.

If this blog were a DJ it would be playing Franz Ferdinand.

Ever been turned on by something you don't at all understand, leaving you completely unsure how to proceed?....that's when you start throwing around words like pomoerotic.

"The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" is one of the best books I've ever read, even though I'm not finished. I know that's a bold statement concerning Joyce.

"You should have an easter egg hunt using smelt roe." -bakay (my art director)

and out.

That last post was much shorter before translated from it's original language.

You know.

Binary code.



trying to look forward to

(i couldn't think of anything)

STATE OF THE SUBCONCIOUS, AS IT IS THE ONLY BRAIN ACTIVITY NOT SHUT DOWN DUE TO NEED OF NAP.

POST PREQUEL: PREQUEL VS. SEQUAL VS. JASON, WHICH WAS TECHNICALLY RELEASED AFTER THE SECOND MOVIE. AND "SUCKED ASS." (though it would have been ok if the first one weren't so good)

(this one is called: I will sleep when I run out of semi-unexpected but mostly derivative references in this post which is like a roller coaster ride for your subconcious filing system, who is tired of being compared to christopher walken because he is actually christopher walken and instead of filing he is busy being in every movie. Including the one with the plot description detailed in the post introduction Part 4, sections 8-11.)
If it weren't for italics and bolding and commas and parenthesis some of my posts would read like one of those poets that just like to drag you all over the place only to learn in the last five minutes that there is no unifying theme. Just a second grader who has been awake for four days trying to diagram my sentences, only stopping to freebase Ritalin. If he's lucky he'll grow up to a lovely VP title and silver BMW number something instead of being an over-educated cynic forced to model their thoughts around the equally infuriating school of thought
POST POST MODERNISM: (which is actually based upon the foundations of some German guy's unifying theory of him and reality, as seen in his original set of dialectics as penned on a napkin during his smoke break from being resident barista.)
post post modernism is a school of thinking way to far into things, making way too many pop culture references, subcategorizing musical genres until they lose all meaning, and waiting for your head to explode as slowly revert back to your unforgettable mirror phase of 1982 while constantly being reminded that the eighties are back. After attempting to analyze several schools of thought using this theory PHd candidates came to the same conclusion as with other theories that use complicated paperwork to throw you off
course: they would not be trying to answer your stupid semantic queries if they were having sex instead of dog-earing Kierkegaard. And they woud not be enduring Kierkegaard whining if he were having sex instead of, ya know, thinkin.

I BLAME DAVE EGGERS FOR THE REST OF THIS POST, AND FOR MOST OF THE ABOVE, ON WHICH I PARTIALLY BLAME THAT BITTER GUY AT YOUR COLLEGE LIBRARY CIRCULATION DESK WHOSE WRITING TECHNIQUES ARE FAR MORE MATURE THAN EGGERS AND WHOSE TITLES WERE LONGER AND WITTIER. YOU CAN SEE HIS PAIN IN THE DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE WHICH DOMINATES HIS I-TUNES AND CUTS STRAIGHT TO THE ANGER. YET HE CANNOT HELP BUT ENJOY THIS VOICE OF HIS FOREBEARERS WHO CAME OF AGE DURING GRUNGE, ONLY TO STAB GRUNGE IN THE BACK WHEN IT BECAME TOO WARM TO WEAR FLANNEL AND THE ENTIRE GENERATION WAS TOO APATHETIC TO REACH AROUND GRUNGE TO PUT THE KNIFE IN THE SINK.

Michael Stipe tried to pen a song about it but instead became crushed under all the wayward metaphors and the weight of having to replace 9/10th of Temple of the Dog's original lineup. Though I am going to list him in the liner notes as "guest flailer" whenever I find my cassette taped Singles Soundtrack.

They are going to be vaccinating against self-doubt if the SAT scores don't improve.
They never take my advice and just make the freaking test easier. Ask more questions about Hemmies in Dodge trucks. Children love hemmys like they love the unconditional comfort of the tv set.

Some people have war flashbacks during insomnia. Some of these people have been in a war. Some are just flashing back to that week all those world war two movies came out at the same time Coppola Reduxed an old movie and tried to trick us into thinking the extra footage wasn't just Sean Penn trying to weasel his way out of actual "acting." I have flashbacks to starting this post three hours ago.

You won't believe me now but this post has a surprise plot twist harkening back to grunge. And intrigue. Depending on what you consider intriguing.

Do not worry I was not up doing anything rash like penning the prequel to the passion of the christ, which I shall now wittily title the passion of the baby jesus (about how he faced the no vacancy sign with the conviction of an unborn child and claimed his birth was a brave stand against abortion. it turns out myrr is archaic for crack, and the movie concludes with a solid three hours of the reason for the season being slowly weaned off myhrr with a explanation that the virgin mary was recently born again and saved from her dangerous foray into drugs and higher education. (christian rock/rap song about how great it is to be white and male and american, while teaching us the evils of the art house). oh yeah and it's gotta be directed by that guy from Creed because he's totally feeling the power of Jesus, either that or his ego has become so big that it's taken the form of a guy that kind of looks like Jesus. I AM TOTALLY WRITING THAT MOVIE, BOOKING BETHELEHEM, CHECKING IF THERE IS ANY WAY AUSSIE OSCAR WINNER NICOLE KIDMAN CAN PLAY A MIDDLE EASTERN TEENAGE CRACKWHORE VIRGIN AND GETTING SOME THOM YORKE SIDE PROJECT TO MAKE "AWAY IN A MANGER" NICE AND VAGUE.

POST ORIGINAL BEGINNING:
Another post that started as something remotely intelligent but instead took it's usual tangent to ridiculing hipsters, music elitist snobs and the variety of Lemmings that choose to drive their Landrovers over the cliff because they live OTP (off the plateau, yo). It's the same-ol, same-ol bitterness that screams hey you can tell she's spending sunday alone instead of with the sole other rock fan swimming against the pounding bassline by listening to goodbye ruby tuesday inside baumer's tent. Plus my entries would probably vaguely reference that I did "just say no" to drugs back during the Reagan administration, and I am now "just saying no" to the nations growing obesity problem by "just saying no" to my digestive system so thanks again you health concious Republicans for making me pretty, which is my way of indicating who was on what and when in simple "when politics go wrong" code. It's real street, yo. Mad cul-de-sac underground. Of course you can tell I'm not bitter because my rage would be palpable in the form of multisyballic slightly altered words constructed in a code that only me and practicers of my philosophy could possibly decipher
As many parties as my journals would indicate I attend, I'm not exactly a willing social gad about room. The problem being that I know entirely too many people only on a surface (i.e. that friendster you added to win the "let's see who can amass the most friendsters thereby making us look really really popular in the eyes of the same twenty people we always see oh hey did we ever determine when this game ends maybe when Friendster becomes nonhip though I'm not sure how we'd know because its not a hot pink variety 'florida- we have old people and only one person on earth still thinks this is a vintage t-shirt but hey this totally says that though I usually listen to John Mayer, one time Jet came on and I totally rocked out with the top down of my lime VW convertibug hey I'm outta room for more slogan, so check out my pierced navel and lower 67% of my freakishly tan torso-" marked down on the rack at Urban Outfitters so in order for it to be officially uncool someone in the upper hipster echilon has to delete their account but that would mean they'd just have to guess where the Faint afterparty is and god forbid they miss dancing with "ok this hipster looks kinda new" guy in band so I guess the contest- like the movie it's oh so ironic to love- is neverending.") level. I know that contest sounds really complicated but keep in mind that it takes several days just to log in and years to get a message through, much like in days of yore. (I think the mid 60's are the current hip days of yore.)
That was quite a tangental parenthetical (also the title of beck's next track 4- and what beck and I shall dance to at our upcoming nuptuals, the title of which shall be "hey, check out this bougeois social convention we're totally about to partake in and have witnessed by trained seals and a guy with tourettes just for some good old fashioned anti-pc backlash but you can tell we're not serious because our formal wear is vintage yves san laurent which we CAN pronounce, and instead of the wedding details here's a list of my favorite notes: B sharp, B flat or just B natural baby in my seafoam pontiac sunbird beep beep beep beep beep on the radio.")
I like really long tangental parentheticals instead of a short title that make fun of hipsters, the rest of the population, and even poke fun at the smartasses who have no one better to make fun of then the hipsters they associate with around the dance floor.
Me looking uncute= she's wierd lets leave her in the corner.
Me looking cute=she's quirky! like the kind of person who provides the comic relief when the cd skips and the electro crowd cheers.

Being considered quirky is a great advantage because it makes the transition to drug addict nearly invisible (morosity too pervasive to budge) and the slip into complete insanity near flawless. In fact, if replaced by a real-enough looking eighteen-year-old, nobody will even realize that you are sipping Tab whilst hoping your Hazeldon juice bar house band will be the next Neutral Milk Hotel with complicated lyrics previously obscured by Parliament lights and that one cartoon you remember from 1st grade and you can't believe they show that at- oh fuck is that the sun? You will start to remember what life was like before electrorockclash and pointlessemocore descriptors. You find your Washing Machine T under a large pile of trucker hats, hang your journalism degree on the wall and remember what it was like to compare bands to Weezer. (Post-"Pinkerton" pre-"Why can't this be more like 'Pinkerton'?" Weezer.) You remember using witty phrases like the previous quip when reviewing the latest Elephant 6 all-slide whistle cover of "Pet Sounds", bonus material includes a cover of "(something really taboo like "Country Feedback" oh yeah we went there and we obscured it behind this 98 song cd just for you! Stipe actually guests on slide whistle...he comes into my rectangular pizza cafe all the time so we're tight, check the liner notes.) You and your bandmates attended Lollapalooza as wide-eyed innocents believing that indie rock could survive anything...and then you remember that one Lollapalooza where a bunch of shit went wrong and all the bands worth seeing vowed to never do it again and the only reason you went the next year was to see the Breeders. And then you get into an arguement where you kind of defend the Cranberries because that one song wasn't so bad and your friends go home in a huff and feel all cool and stuff while listening to Marquee Moon and out of blind rage you accidently pick up your old Casio and start electroclash. And develop a drug habit. Somewhere along the line you switch from first to second person. POV. And then the cycle starts all over again, thus proving the validity of post post modernism (allowing for the theory that it can get away with less substantiation because it's just a sequal).

Oh yeah, I just remembered the point I was making: So as You Can See We are quite busy evading any real productivity or logical thought. Next year we hope to make more connections between Left Bank Cinema and Reese's Pieces Blizzards.

Reception to follow. I mean, cigarette to follow.

Is there really a genre called "shoegazer?" What the hell is it? And what's with the lack of core-ness? Hardcore Softcore Nocore, come on throw me some useless context here!

signed
steve, accounts payable




ps. I am in love with Stephen Dedalus. But I'm only on chapter three.
I certainly hope this goes better than the Jake Barnes incident, or I'm moving on to protagonists with a dream! An American Dream!
more to come...

Who am I kidding...I'm not getting anything else productive done at this here office today. It's Friday at 6:30. Friday. at. six. thirty.
I'm going to go work out and then go to Tower to buy the 2nd Family Guy dvd and then hopefully not sit in traffic on the interstate but instead move along at a steady clip.
I need to hire an assistant to do all my work for me so I can spend all my time on blogger.

An assistant I can pay in pink-frosted cookies.

Don't even suggest hiring a blind monkey; that did not work out last time. Yes, management did, in fact, have a problem with the poo-flinging. No, it wasn't that he was throwing fecal matter; it was just because of his vision problem he came nowhere close to hitting his intented target. And then he sued for lack of accomidation for his handicapped poo-flinging ways. Montlick and Associates showed up and a heavy door slammed and the monkey got quite a settlement. They. Mean. Business!

I'm never entirely sure where my posts will go when I start them. If someone had told me three minutes ago that I would be writing about Montlick and poo I would have slapped them upside the head. Soundly.

To the gym!

Every time someone calls today I turn the music up to very loud, put the phone on speaker and yell "what?" "WHAT?"

Because Friday is Fugazi day.

Earlier, while writing headlines for "no roaming" in Canada, I wrote the following:
"Canada: Now the 52nd state."

52nd state? Why did I think we had a 51st state?

I'm never going to pass the Iowa Achievement Test now.
I'm going to be a child left behind, proof of our failing education system.

So much for being a dermatologist.

UPDATE!

I am now eating a taco.