From Late Night With Conan O' Brien...

"So I got us new song. I got us a really good song."

Girl, you must be from another time one where awesomeness was not confined
'cause awesomeness is awesome, baby
But not like you
you're so awesome I say yeah
How'd you get so awesome, baby?
From drinking lots of awesome juice?
The awesome juice has worked, hooray
awesomeness ooh-ooh

"Basically, it's the word "awesome." I counted like 23 times, and-"

"28."

"28 awesomes."

"Yeah, I think it's a lot."

"'Awesome' is, like, the word kids use today. I actually went to a mall yesterday. And hung around for about two hours, until I got asked to leave. And I heard the word "awesome" so many times. Like, kids- this is what kids say. They're also swearing a lot, but- You know, we can't do that. That's not gonna get play. I heard a lot of- like, I heard [ Bleep ] A lot. This, [ Bleep ] That. But I swear to god, the second word I heard the most- third word. I heard, "you [ Bleep ]." I heard that a lot. And then the third word I heard a lot was "awesome." Kids say "awesome" all the time. Trust me- I know what I'm doing.
You are bad boys, all right?
You've been sent to prison.
You've been sent to prison for mail fraud.
You're in here for tax evasion.
You killed a cat.
You ate a tomato that didn't belong to you.
And you're just- you're just a creep. And they put you in prison.
All right? That's your motivation. The only studio that we could afford already had a few sets in it, for some reason. So basically, we were forced to incorporate those sets into the video. Here's the idea- you've been in prison so long, you don't know what kind of music they're listening to outside anymore. You think they're listening to old ragtime, so it's like-"

how'd you get so awesome, baby?
Hey, there little awesome girl

"Come on. Let's go, dudez. All right. Here's the deal. You guys are at the bottom of the deep blue sea in this sequence. All right?"

Swim swimmin' and the fishy go by
swim swimmin' then the fishy go by

"We'll create the illusion that -- what? What was that?

"I thought that was cool."

"I'm not gay! Is that what you said? I'm not. You're wrong...Okay, well, the good news is we've got our space backdrop. And we've got a spaceman and alien. Little bit of a glitch. These are the only space costumes that we've got. But I think we can make do with these other costumes. And these are great. You're now superman, a doctor and richard nixon."

"You're going-
ha ha
I want you to be going like-
ho ha
I want you to be going like-
uh huh
and I want you to be going like-
a shimma shimma shimma
And I want you to be going like-
nyah ha say ba ooh ooh
Hey!"

A shimma shi-I-mma shim
a shimma shi-imma shim
a shimma shimma shim
a shimma shimma shim
a shim
shim
shebapbap
shebapbap
yep yep yep
yep yep yep
shimma shimma shim
shimma shimma shim

"This'll be the space egg. So, space alien, you are guarding the space egg with your life, okay? We got this. A giant toothbrush. Okay? So you're now a space dentist, all right? Donk I is -- it's a space donkey. It's a symbol of what party?"

"Democrats."

"Democrats- richard nixon was a republican. So you be like mad at the space donkey. I want you to partner up right here, if you would. Huh? Would you come this way? Right over here. Right this way, young lady. Very nice. And you will be with superman, right here. Nice. How many dudez are there? How many dudez a plenti? What is it?"

"Five."

"There are five?"

"Five."

"Okay, my bad. I thought it was four. Sorry."



One time
I should not have eaten that tomato
girl, you must be from another time one where awesomeness was not confi-I-eded
to awesome things like I and them
even awesomeness itself does not compare
'cause awesomeness
a awesome, baby not like you
you're so awesome I say yeah, baby, ooh
how'd you get so awesome, baby?
Drinking lots of awesome juice
the awesome juice has worked, hooray
I want to be with you
hey, there little awesome girl
can I get some awesome juice oh, please
body wants to be with me
ooh, yeah shimma shimma sha ooh
Girl, you must be from another time
I say, one where awesomeness is not confined
to awesome things like a and them
even awesomeness itself does not compare
'cause awesomeness is awesome, baby not like you
you're really awesome

"I think they're on their way. Unless I forget again."


This article comes from Popdirt.com
http://popdirt.com

Schnauzers Replace Llama As Hot New Pet!

In the grand tradition of kenniebloggins, here are some things that are ovverrated:

That song "Wild Thing"
"Ethan Frome"
trancendentalism
antitrancendentalism
complaining
Trans-Am (the band, not the car)
Jack Daniels
cocaine
carbonation
Futurama
Social Anxiety Disorder
Bukowski
getting degrees and shit
Shoegazer (the music "genre")
quitting smoking
twizzlers
.avi file formats
Captain Crunch cereal (plain, not peanut butter)
The Doors
Jim Morrison as a "poet"
Morrissey's lyrics
99% of music critics
that other 1% of music critics, too
concepts that can be considered "high concept"

"Remember me? I'm the kid who had a report due on space. Then I got the new Encyclopedia Britannica."
"He had a report due on space, and then he got the new Encycloped-"
"I think I made that abudently clear."
"Uhh, yes."
"Anyhow, here it is. I mean, hey everybody knows that this is the greatest encyclopedia in the world. It helped me get a B+."
"Why not an A?"
"Too long. I found so much great information I put it all in. Overkill."
"Mm."
"The next report I did was for my science class, on the human body. Scored an A. Look at this! I always wondered where my mandibula was!"
"For details on how you can have the New Encyclopedia Britannica-"
"Let's have that one-eight hundred number again."


If I wanted to, I would've called. Such is the beauty in laid-back, cool, makes you wanna set your tv on fire advertising.

Check out this insanely scary anti-drug PSA from back in the day. Not that it makes me scared of drugs, just of giant snake-like dealers...

And while you're basking in nostalgia, here's an old-school Halloween-themed cereal commercial. I miss when breakfast used to be scary...

I'm a dance crusader
playa hater
rhythm trader
your favorite Now and Later
I'm a beat creator
funky waiter
bring you tater
Your smoothest operator.
I'm a happy customer
A heat modulator.
I'm a dance floor raider
magic satyr
freak evader
I'll be your Christian Slater.
I'm a couples skater
smart like laser
rose parader
Your heart palpatrator.

This guy needs to get beat up, whoever he is:

Misguided Suspense Metaphors

The situation had become topsy-turvy- like Christmas in the summer, if you're in Australia.

The information imbedded on the stolen computer chip was like an explosive so explosive it could explode, creating a massive explosion.

The killer was a misplaced comma in the jaunty, happy sentence that made up the party crowd.

His face looked like an ice sculpture. Not one of those pretty ones in the middle of a cruise ship buffet, but the kind they do in a contest with a chainsaw- and it had been out in the heat too long.

Like any family, this house had its secrets, secrets it grimly refused to reveal, and would continue to refuse to reveal even if it could speak, which unlike a family, or at least most members of most families, it couldn't.

The sudden darkness made the Countess tense, like Bobby Jerome that time with the bicycle in 7th grade, remember?

There was something funny about the kidnapping crime scene that Special Agent Frievald couldn't quite place, and the thought stuck with him throughout the rest of the day, like those tiny little bits of the circumferent skin from the bologna slices on a foot-long Subway Cold Cut Trio that get stuck in between the last two molars on the upper left, on the tongue side where you can't possibly reach them with a toothpick, your fingernails, or even a systematically straightened paper clip, they just sit there and make everything you eat at your next meal taste vaguely like vinegar and mayonnaise, and then somehow -- quietly but miraculously -- they disappear by themselves in the middle of the night while you're asleep, just like the visiting Countess appeared to have done.

(as stolen from Top Five Dot Com.)

Google Language Translator On Proust:

A long time, I lay down early. Sometimes, hardly my extinct candle, my eyes were closed so quickly that I did not have time to say to me: "I fall asleep" And, half an hour after, the thought which it was time to seek the sleep woke up me; I wanted to pose volume that I still believed to have in the hands and to blow my light; I had not ceased while sleeping to make reflexions on what I had just read, but these reflexions had taken a a little particular turn; it seemed to to me that I was myself that about which the work spoke: a church, a quartet, competition of François Ier and Charles Quint. This belief survived during a few seconds in my alarm clock, it did not shock my reason but weighed like scales on my eyes and prevented them from realizing that the candlestick was not lit any more. Then it started to become to me inintelligible, as after the métempsycose the thoughts of a former existence; the subject of the book was detached from me, I were free of me to apply to it or not; at once I covered the sight and I was well astonished to find around me a darkness, soft and resting for my eyes, but perhaps more still for my spirit, with which it appeared as a thing without cause, incomprehensible, like a really obscure thing. I wondered what time it could be; I heard the whistle of the trains which, more or less moved away, like the song of a bird in a forest, raising the distances, described me the extent of the deserted countryside where the traveller hastens towards the nearest station; and the small way which it follows will be engraved in its memory by the excitation which it owes with new places, with unaccustomed acts, the recent talk and the good-byes under the foreign lamp which still follow it in the silence of the night, with the nearest softness of the return. I tenderly supported my cheeks against the beautiful cheeks of the pillow which, full and fresh, are like the cheeks of our childhood. I rubbed a match to look at my watch. Soon midnight. It is the moment when the patient, who was obliged to leave on a journey and had to sleep in an unknown hotel, awaked by a crisis, is delighted by seeing under the door a line by day. What a happiness, it is already the morning! In one moment the servants will be picked up, it will be able to sound, one will come to carry help to him. The to be relieved hope gives him courage to suffer. Precisely it believed to hear steps; the steps approach, then move away.

New Stuff! New Stuff! Yell it like a crazy person cause it's new stuff!

New favorite quote of the specific period of time:
Any time someone finds god in a set of rented flourescent lights I become anguished.
-David P.

And also, new poll. Look to your right! That's your right!

Ok well maybe it wasn't that spectacular but hey I don't see you throwing around new stuff.

Check this out, for it is ripe with humor: It is the dullest blog in the world, and it is now my blog of the moment.

I got the wierdest piece of spamail the other day, supposedly from an online pharmaceutical company. It included this picture:



And this text:
But at seven minutes to one o'clock in the morning a deafening whistling was heard, like that produced by a body of water rushing with great violence
A person charged in any state with treason, felony, or other crime, who shall flee from justice, and be found in another state, shall on demand of the executive authority of the state from which he fled, be delivered up, to be removed to the state having jurisdiction of the crime; The shock had been so slight that no one had been alarmed, had it not been for the shouts of the carpenter's watch, who rushed on to the bridge, exclaiming, "We are sinking! we are sinking!" At first the passengers were much frightened, but Captain Anderson hastened to reassure them.

Um, yeah.

Just acquired the posthumously-released Elliot Smith album, "From A Basement On The Hill"

Wow. I'm not huge on posting song lyrics, but I'm gonna post one just to guage the general mood of the entire album:

Memory Lane

This is the place
You'll end up when
You lose the chase
Where you're dragged against your will
From a basement on the hill
All anybody knows is
You're not like them
They hit you in the head
And send you back to bed
Isolation called you and passed a tunnel into a
Bright world where you can rule a place of state
Here's a little house for you to stay
But everybody's scared of this place
They're staying away
Your little house on memory lane
The mayor's name is fear
His voice patrols the pier
By a mountain up of cliche
That advances everyday
The doctor speak in clowns
He rings out loud
He'll keep the doors and windows shut
And swear
Never join a soul again
But isolation chased you ‘til every muscle ached
Down the only road it ever takes
But everybody's scared of this place
They're staying away
Your little house on memory lane
If it's your decision
To be open about yourself
Be careful or else
Be careful or else
Uncomfortable apart
It's all written on my chart
That I take what's given to me
Most cooperatively
I do what people say
And lie in bed all day
Absolutely horrified
I hope you're satisfied
Isolation pushes past something and chained to
A place where suffering’s a game
But everybody's scared of this place
They're staying away
Your little house on memory lane
Your little house on memory lane

...

hey, wouldn't you know they change every time you refresh the page! call your friends!

Quote of the specified time period:
I have been to hell and it is the Pink Pony golf tournament.
-my friend, who was there and should know.

In the future, robots will teach foriegn children what to do when the U.S. of A. invades their country.

Conversations with Great Conversationalists. Part 1.

"Hey Jill, are you stoned? You look stoned."
"No. No, I'm not."
"But you look stoned."
"No, actually that's you."
"Yeah, you're right."

(five second pause)

"Hey Jill are you stoned?"
"Nope, still you."
"Oh yeah..."
(commence to feeding the dog more tater chips)

That last post made me sound like I am but 13 years old. Damn me and my ways.

I think maybe having good dreams is worse than having bad dreams because when you wake from a good dream you are hit with a shit ton of reality that sucks so so much. That was the beginning of my morning. The rest was dealing with auto repair people and insurance people because my car was backed into last night by a giant fucking SUV. And now I'm at work.
God, this week has been a funk and a half so far. I feel like I've been in this depressed haze, which only momentarily lifts and then gets shoved back down. It's all self-imposed. I like people too much that I shouldn't like too much, and I sit and mope about it instead of doing anything about it (or nothing about it, or something about it, or anything about it still I guess), sufficing to say: boys suck.
That is all.
Oh, except: you knocked a future shock crowbar upside my head/I got caught with the stop of the tick tock, tick tock clock.
(i didn't write that)

That is REALLY all.

Baby, when I met you there was peace unknown.
I set out to get you with a fine tooth comb.

How amazingly romantic is that song? God, I love it when a guy follows me around with comb. Especially if, in his other hand, he is clutching a leg of roasted chicken.
When am I going to get my time in the sun? My piece of the pie? My, um...island. In the stream. Yeah.

The irony was near palpable tonight. I was aiming for ironing, but I fucking got karmakarmakarmakarmakarmachameleon and a girl with three mohawks (the trihawk) instead of perfectly pressed pants. Someone needs to inform me when I should show up in skintight jeans, three belts and a Ralph Macchio headband and when I should show up with a can of starch. Though I suppose the starch would be handy for my new look: the quadhawk.



that is clearly not a quadhawk. it is a mohawk-shaped muppet.


"Do you remember this guy?"
"I'm starting to... "
"And how annoying he was?"
"And how he scoffed at our magazines."
"What were you planning on doing with him?"
"Plans are for fools!"
"But what are we gonna do with him?"
"We will use him for the Armies... of the Night."
"I thought the replicant was gonna do the Army-"
"For a different Army, dorkface! Do you see how my mind works it's like a laser."

I used to listen to the Her Space Holiday album and think to meself, "this is really good and all, but it would be so much better if, whilst listening to it, I could simulaneously watch a guy wearing a white polo shirt and khaki shorts make out with two girls, neither one of which seem to possess the slightest bit of rhythm."
Last night at the Echo Lounge, HSP made that dream come true. Because they know that when displaced Buckhead-folk take ecstacy and act like idiots, we all win.

The seventies must have been a bitch for the airline industry.

Ok. That's it. I'm bustin' out of here. I'm gonna strap one of those hanglider wings to my car and see what happens. I'm gonna wear goggles on the road and smoke through the tube that supposed to lead to the oxygen. And I'm never ever getting anything done because of hurricanes and corporate policy and gravity. I'm glad I have a lot of mix cds in my car because i have a feeling that I will be hydroplaning at minimum speed.
I think I am going to rename my car the Calypso, so I can film myself in the parking deck during "Calypso's search for a Parking Space." My new blog theme shall reflect thus.

Comment o' the moment, re: civil war reenactmania
Dude, check it out: someone who, judging by their name, likes both ska and caligula is making fun of...me, I guess. Though their extensive knowledge of the Atlanta social scene leads me to suspect how little room they have to poke the fun.
Oh, and they also seem to like Civil War re-enactments. And ska. And caligula.

I suppose going camping with a bunch of friends and horsing around during the afternoons a couple times a month is pretty LA-ME. Maybe even lamer than Friday night at Lenny's, followed by Saturday night at MJQ, followed by Friday night at Lenny's, followed by Saturday night at MJQ, followed by Friday night at Lenny's, followed by Saturday night at MJQ, followed by Friday night at Lenny's, followed by Saturday night at MJQ, followed by Friday night at Lenny's, followed by Saturday night at MJQ, followed by Friday night at Lenny's, followed by Saturday night at MJQ, followed by Friday night at Lenny's, followed by Saturday night at MJQ, followed by Friday night at Lenny's, followed by Saturday night at MJQ, followed by Friday night at Lenny's, followed by Saturday night at MJQ.

But I suppose everyone's gotta have a hobby. Some people's just happen to SO WAAAY FUCKING LAME, and deserving of ridicule.
skagula

All that's missing is a stab at grammar correction- let's step it up next time, oh wise sage!

It's legally acquire an AK rifle Day! Anyone wanna start a seperatist nation?

Hurrican Ivan, named after Russian Czar Ivan The Terrible (due to their similar methods of oppressing serfs and enforcing a rigid pogrom-based slash and burn white proletariat brand of Imperialistic Monarchy), has apparently broken through the Bermuda Triangle, which was set up specifically to disorient such massive storms. In light of this recent development it was deemed Category 5, which is like the hired assassin if the weather bureau had a justice division or a Law And Order Spinoff.
Meanwhile we are still droppin' bombs in Iraq, and that is not a metaphor unless you were thinking of the sort of metaphor that explodes and kills a bunch of people. It's as though the government were trying to distract us from America's real enemy: Weather Patterns. It is clear, having carefully noticed that hurricanes keep landing on Florida and destroying stuff and killing people and SUVs, that there is recordable evidence that Weather Patterns are trying to take our freedom more so than Iraq or even France. Do you think it is a coincidence that it chooses to bring most of it's wrath on the state most responsible for bringing W. to ultimate power due to it's inability to count? Or that Ivan is a Russian and Communist name and the Communists have a long history of Freedom-theivery? Don't be suprised if, in the near future, you see other signs of Weather Pattern anger in the form of avalanches, forest fires (specifically targeting Smokey the Freedom Bear), and extremely uncomfortable humidity. We have Special Advanced Doppler Weather Radar Storm Teams all over the nation tracking these atrocities. It is now the time to show those contrasting fronts and ass cold winds that America will not stand by and live in fear of Weather.
If Weather wins, then the terrorists win! And then weather will see the terrorists and destroy them! And then the Weather wins! It's not good, either way! Four more years!

The crickets are doing a really good impression of a test of the Emergency Broadcast System right now.

Finally able to upload more of these:

Let me amend that last post- PROFESSIONAL male tennis players are hot.
I just passed a tennis court on the way home from the store and saw some not-so-hot pudgy guys attempting to play, then I realized how unamended my post remained.

Male tennis players are hot. All of them.

I want to go watch a Civil War re-enactment. Mostly because it's a subculture who collectively fails to see the absurdity in investing time and money for such a defunct and (gloriously) stupid endeavor. Especially if you are going to accidently leave your 1986 Astro Minivan on the battlefield:



That van must've carried in them northern aggressors. I can tell cause it's blue.
Do you think that this post will bring a bunch of southwillriseagain extremists to my site? I hope so. That's a demographic I have failed to crack, despite all those posted pictures of Saxby Chambliss.

So yeah, anyone wanna go? We can do fake barbaric amputations on fake soldiers! And get tanked on mint julep!

Open letters (or dictations, rather) to people at MJQ, "people" meaning either a certain group of people with specific tendencies, objects assigned anthropomorphic qualities, one specific person, or several specific people- none of whom will be addressed by name, made up or otherwise, except perhaps the objects.

-If you ask me for, oh let's call it ibuprophen, please do not proceed to complain to me about the effects of the ibuprofen unless you suddenly find youself allergic and need me to call an ambulence. I do not want to hear about how annoying you became or how much rest you missed. I know you are trying to place the blame elsewhere, as you do not want to be associated with ibuprofen. I also recognize that as a lack of maturity and will remember it as such. I do not mind sharing, I do mind sharing with whiny-ass little bitches who lack the ability to take some motherfucking responsibility for their actions.

-The text messanger on my phone really needs to stop wanting to get all active around four am. Especially considering I cannot read half of my screen and am really just winging it over on the right side.

-To any number of girls who talked to me, but not all of them: guys do not actually have the multilayered, well thought-out, Bond-villian/Freudian subject-esque motivation for every single thing they do. If it turns out that the guy in question is still in any way relevent in your life ten years from now, you might want to look back and see what went wrong.

-If I do not know you at all and overhear you say "That song has a really good beat!" I will probably not make fun of you. If I do not know you and I see that you are wearing large white socks with your black shoes I will probably not make fun of you. If you do both of these things, oh buddy you are in for being made fun of. By me. Because let's face it, I am so much cooler than you. I mean, you even look as though you might be having fun which is such a loser thing to do. You actually enjoy that postal service song instead of merely singing along pseudoironically? Loser.

-Let's repeat this to ourselves BEFORE leaving the house: Less Product, More Skirt!

-To the person who stole the sink out of the back bathroom: I do not think that was the smartest solution to whatever conundrum caused you to rip a sink out of the most unsanitary bathroom your ass will probably ever see. I hope you realized this before tearing down Ponce on foot, sink overhead, yelling at the top of your lungs "Yeah, you GET the cops- I know that the sink fucking hit me first. YOU HEAR ME? How long have I been coming here? You know me!"

-Yes! Last call was awhile ago! Yes! It happens every night! At a specific time! No! They are not just doing that to specifically deprive you of that fourth beer! But wouldn't it be cool of they were!

-I am pretty sure that, no matter how far into your education you dropped out to join a band, you are aware that there are 24 hours in a day. How about, instead of spending 23.5 of them trying to get that fischerspooner song out of your head, doing a little planning ahead so that the last half hour will not be spent frantically searching/arguing about how to spend those wee after-hours. Personally I enjoy attending company briefings and department meetings, but those are usually planned for me at a little thing called having a grown-up job. Not all of you have such luxuries. DIY, before I slap you all.

-MJQ: Please shake things up a little. You know. Come up with some suprises. I dunno, like slip-n-slides down the enterenceway, giant curly straws in the drinks, the "Godspell" touring company suddenly bursting into a fully-choreographed reinactment of that night's skirmish between whichever two malnourished punk kids decided to get their underage asses kicked out.

Open letter closed- please come again.

I have so much love to give, it hurts. Or something hurts anyways...I need ibuprofen...

dance fighting.

Record review! Record review!

I now have the new Pinback album, due out at some point in the future, titled "Summer In Abbadon."
Imagine, if you will, that you had a new Pinback album to call your very own. Imagine what it might sound like as the notes and lyrics spilt forth from your stereo speakers. This is assuming you have previous knowledge of Pinback. If you have none of that, go out and get some. And then follow the instructions above.

Yes, that is pretty much what it sounds like- exactly what you would expect a new Pinback album to sound like.
There is one song on there called "Fortress" that I like, but mostly because it makes me dance all back and forth like this, but you really have to be here to see it cause it's hard to explain.
(Thanks to my "just friend" brian p. for giving me the heads-up on this one, as new pinback albums do make awfully strange dancefloor conversation.)

New look! New banner! New release by the band Neu!
All but one of those are true, which I could be wrong about because I do not keep up with the band Neu!

You know what this is? It is an internet revolution starting from the grounds up.
You should get on board while you can.

Damnit, damnit, damnit. I am blaming the combination of Hurricane Frances's extreme proximity and the U.S. Open on the fact that my sinuses are striking back with little or no remorse.
Stupid stupid....lack of ability to form coherent sentences.

It is tactile night here. Every time I go outdoors it seems to be readying for permanence, one size large glass full please.

I turn around for three seconds to witness televised punditry, and Sebastian decides to write an entry.
I think he has an interesting take on the RNC:

bnnnnnnnvbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbvnnghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.m,vl;

-Sebastian the cat.

oh wait, he has something else to-

5tttttttttttt



yes. quite.



i bet our writer is dreaming something postmodern.

Isn't "Liberty Century" the name a Dodge dealership out in the 'burbs?

Listening to Bush's speech makes me want to break things.
I will get into part-by-part detail, and exactly what I would be breaking were I in a position to do so, but right now I'm kinda stuck on this path to the future.
A path, claims Bush, from which we will not turn back.

Good to know he's grasped the concept of linear time.

Wait, what was that? The terrorists are trying to take our system by which we measure time?

This speech must have been written for people who don't pay much attention.

Bush! The Candidate For People Who Aren't Paying Much Attention!

I will be out of commission for a bit.
Not on here.


Never mind, just go back to scanning bunny's links/fotolog/swayzefanweb.






If you are still here then you now know I want to fucking scream in so many different ways, because things are out of my control, because I get too sad, because I'm scared to say what I want to say even though it's right there. Maybe it's the hurricane, the one that looks the size of fifteen states, causing all that gravity.
But it's probably just me. I am going to drive myself wall-scratching insane, and it feels sooner as of late.
I tend to make things up in my head. I tend to make things up that belong to other people in my head.

I do not understand how in a universe so random and glossed-over chaotic, some things are so set. Some things are sacred, some things are so fucking predictable that oh well you're dreaming if you think anything changes.

Said one speck of nothing to the other just before they were both spat out the end of their black hole.
No one will find you there, and that is the way I like it.

Well, Suntrust has managed to shit all over me.
Upon accidently scheduling a withdrawal for my school loan payment for Monday morning (which depleted all my funds)- everything that showed since then- everything check card purchase, every ATM withdrawal, even those as low as three or four dollars- which includes everything from friday through turesday, has had a overdraft fee. That's around $300 in overdraft fees. My $1015 I depoisted yesterday is now less than $500.
I cannot pay my rent.
And they cannot do this. This is the second overdraft I have had in EIGHT YEARS. Needless to say, first thing in the morning I am going to have a stern talking-to with them. Yes, it was my mistake, but they should not be allowed to take out that much money just based on bad timing.

Oh well. At least I'm not dealing with this.
Or this.
Or this.

Man, this white chocolate kit-kat is good eatin'.

I keep having dreams about the upcoming election. Usually they concern me having some trouble voting, which I'm pretty sure means I just need to get my ass an absentee ballot (as I am still registered in a different county). I also need to convince my Dad to not vote for Bush, and my Mom to vote in general...I think if I ask nicely enough she will vote for whoever I ask her to.

I also need to start getting to work before 10:30am. My alarm clocks are pure bunk.