Band Names I Made Up, Old and New

Camp Basement
Haley Mills Replicator Kit
Underconstructionalism
Beta Test: the Movie
The Seriouser
D Major, the Note.
Shatner!
Thunderdomesticity
the ayn rand band
look over there!
pavement 2
Things That Make You Go Is That A C&C Music Factory Cover Band
Simon and Garfunkier
The Five Darren Stephenses and How We Sound

I am remarkably beyond tired, anaesthetized tired, molecules turned heavy tired. Goddamn alcohol, goddamn you alcohol. If I were never bored I would never need it, or maybe its that edge that needs shaving off. Halloween!
Speaking of edges (oh ha ha), I cannot believe that not only did only arounds four people get the I was Jacques Cousteau (not to mention all those ick pseudopunkscene kids who had no clue who Cousteau is), the only person to get the beyond-cousteau meaning was my ex, who asked me if I were a part of Team Zissou.

Oh man, I met a kid who did not know who Andy Warhol was. I thought he was perhaps being dry, but then realized that a person holding three different-flavored jello shots was incapable of subtle undertones.

I should perhaps back up to the part about me rolling in with the whole damn factory, Andy and Edie and Basquiat (who I know was not a part of the factory "scene"). I don't think Jamal actually changed clothes from his daily attire, though he was telling everyone about how he was art and singing the halloween song*. Loudly. Out my car window. Oh and pissing in pubic is now apparently high concept, depending on the medium. I bet everyone was wondering what the hell cousteau was doing in the mix. I mean, I know no one actually was but I the answer would have been navigating anyways cause kegs are freaking hard to find sometimes.

Em jay cue, where everyone knows your name and the name of the last five people you've dated. It makes me bitter, and I don't like me when I'm bitter. Small small circles fuck all.

In other news, I am writing a screenplay (cause yeah the world needs more of those huh) titled "Day Zero." It's about living in nebulous time where things come to a head, separate, reform, and are paraded in front of you brushed off as new. And also it's about voice modulation. And maybe trigonometry. I do not expect it to be produced.

My god, what a week. Remind me to tell you about it sometime.

* Lyric Sheet for "The Halloween Song":
It's Halloween! It's Halloween!
Halloween! It's here!
Halloween is here and whats that in the air
Oh right its Halloween!

How the hell did I live 25 years without ever having known that Scott Baio guest starred on an episode of "Full House".
And not just any episode- the one where Uncle Jessie attempts to ride his motorscooter across a ledge that's gotta be at least a story or two off the ground. I mean, that's right up there with the one where Uncle Jessie dangles from a tree by parachute cord for an entire episode.

And for some reason in this episode Bob Saget looks like the former (forgotten) member of "Flock of Seagulls" who has since turned to dealing coke and used cars. No clue why. Such is the beauty of miller meeting boyett.

Earlier I bought a toothbrush shaped like an astronaut.

This should do wonders for the adventure level of my dental hygiene habits.

As Recovered From My Work E-Mail Archive, And Brought To You With No Context Whatsoever!


Best salad ever??

You don't need to ask twice

What if I ask three times?

You return to Kansas

Are there la fondas in kansas?

There are, but they're constantly swirling inside a tornado.

---------

Don't be silly..everyone knows that the apocaylpse starts with the heavens turning red with fire and opening up revealing the four horsemen, whereupon their wrath will be unleashed on the nonbelievers. And also, on those who do not love raymond.

---------

We need to leave here at 6:45 for the movie.

Don't tell me what to do!

Ummm. okay. You will hold my hand during the movie.

Um..that's not his hand you're holding.

Stop objectifying me!

Um...that's not you I'm objectifying.

Stop correcting me!

Today is finally here.
It is the day that is henceforth known as the day that was:

DAAAAAY ZEEEEEROrorororororo

Day Zero has hit. And life will never be the same again.






For the robots.


------


Did I mention that I was flying this plane the other day, and then it accidently veered into one of those mountains. It was not pretty.

Dear Nobel Committee:
I was recently informed by my esteemed colleagues at the research institute of learning and technology (where I do most of my research and technological learning), that the nominees for the seventyth-something Nobel Prize Awards had been announced and lauded. And I must admit, it hurt me. See, I shed a tear because the science category nominee list has one obvious hole and it is the hole that is shaped like me. That's right! Don't think I didn't notice! Fifteen years and fifteen hands without awards. I mean, thirty hands without awards. Or actually I guess it would be fifteen, cause you really only need one hand to hold an award, unless you suffer from the brittle-bones.

Skeletal disorders or no, I'm starting to take it personally, like a smelly guy sitting alone on the bus.

As you can see by looking at your watches, my time has come. It is my turn to find a corner of the sky and bask in the sun! In other words, it is my year to come out the shining victor of science with all the world screaming U.S.A.! For science!
You might be asking yourself why my science is so special and different from, say, Antwerp's science. I will be honest. To explain such differences would require lengthy theoretical equations and a flow chart the likes of which you have never seen. And with today's declining attention span and need for "faster, flashier science" I feel like such an explanation would hinder my extreme victory.
So I will cut it down to the bare exoskeleton (thats a science term for bones) and explain it as thus:
I have set out, and succeeded in proving absolutely nothing. What? Impossible, you say! Well gentlemen, silence your chorus of pshaws and get ready to read, nay devour, just what is possible when you take science to the next level.
My thesis is entitled "The Theory Of Absolute Nothingness". It is a 200-page study on such varied subjects as aquarium fish taco consumption in the winter months, and how to make time zones work for us instead of against us like they have for so many years. As you feast your eyes on page after page of seemingly random word problems (which I have conveiniently solved) and topics which change without the hassle of segue or warning, keep in mind that another ommission is gonna make you guys look pretty foolish in the face of such a science-filled document.

My next project shall involve a resolution of the conflict which has split the Science Community in half for so many years. The great Mr. Wizard vs. Bill Nye debate has gone on long enough. It is time for a definitive answer and next year the answer shall be delivered. There will probably be relay races invovled so you might want to wear something you're not afraid to get dirty.

Best Wishes and Sincerely,

Dehumidifier, PhD (in the Language of Science)

p.s. enclosed is a fruit basket. and fruit flies since I know you guys like those things.

p.p.s. enclosed are some pre-fed fruit flies.

I hate heavy conversations.
I hate feeling sad about shit I can't do anything about.
I hate that it's hard to let some things slide.
Also, I hate livejournal cut tags.














Did I mention that I have a huge crush on Michael Stipe...among others...(dsfnekrnoioifmdl).

"So where were we..."
"I was almost at the bridge...deedle dee dee dee deedle deedle deedle dee..."
"Hmm."
"Hrm."
"Yep."
"Heheh."
"Uh hmm."
"We're terrific."
"This is the best conversation EVER. I think I will post it on my blog."
"Forever remembered. Forever young."
"Forever....swayze."

"I was just kidding."
-Me, re: previous posts.

"I just meant that you should enjoy the music while you're there."
-V+, before last night's R.E.M. show, which was a different show from that other one.

"Put down the damn camera and watch the show."
-V+, during last night's R.E.M. show

excessive amounts of pictures to follow...

My favorite quote of the week:

"Tomorrow I will go back to being funny and your show will still blow."
-John Stewart, referring to his appearance on Crossfire.

What I Have Been Concentrating On As Of Late, As Alphabetized a la Scarnsworth, (who I keep ripping off- get it? ripping? damn I rock.) In An A to Z Manner, As Per The English Alphabet.

a) Alphabetizing everyday events so I can find them easier in the future, when I might need an event.

b) Betta Fish. I wonder if they call them Betta Fish cause they're still in testing phase...like they're looking to perfect the concept of an aquarium dweller and are still working out the glitches. If I get a third theoretical betta fish I'm gonna name it "Glitch." I do not own fish but I enjoy naming them.

c) Creme brulee ice cream tastes exactly like vanilla ice cream. I'm onto you, Haagen Daaz. You can't trick me with your excessive vowels, I already learned my lesson through the saab. And through the creme brulee ice cream.

d) Doing stuff. Thinking about doing stuff. Other people, and the stuff they do. And refraining from doing stuff that I cannot do, like djing and joining a band. Thinking about how other people should refrain from doing that as well.

e) Expatriatism of the post-election variety. As you all know, I am no fan of Bush. I am voting for Kerry. I think I've made that pretty clear in the past. However, to people who claim that this country is going to go into such shambles (should bush be re-elected) that they are going to leave the country I say go. It will be a good population thinner-outter, cause usually it's the same group of kids that talk a lot about politics without really knowing anything. Another group that needs to go are people who vote solely based on a tax plan, especially if they are voting for tax cuts. If that is the most important issue to you, then you need to rethink your priorities in life. Money is not that important, especially if you have enough to be affected by the cuts. Yeah, I know, it's your money. But there are many many things more important than that, such as lower-income children getting adequate medical care. I know some money gets wasted in red tape, or goes to causes you don't believe in, etc. It's just that casting a vote based on money seems a little...materialistic, I guess.

f) The FrankenFamily! And by that I mean "Frankenfish", "Frankenberry", and "Franken, Al". I am going to pitch this show idea to myself, in my head. It's a dramedy.

g) Glitch the Betta Fish would be trained to fight those tiny plastic scuba divers they put in aquariums. Damn, that would be funny as hell! Fish are so stupid.

h) Holy fuck, the election is incredibly close! Like, uncomfortably close like when a show is sold-out at the echo lounge.

i) I-Pods. I don't know why I considered acquiring one of these. They're just asking for it. Seriously. Once upon a time they were so pricey that the only demographic that could afford one is the same demographic who look rediculous using it, an entire tax bracket jamming out to Zero 7 or something else found on a compilation of songs that Armani Exchange vomited forth in order to sell more "pre-distressed denim legwear." Thank god MINI noticed how much upwardly mobile consumers enjoyed tiny boxes that do stuff cause now this behavior is primarily contained to interstates and advertising agency parking decks. Then either the price dropped or people started putting portable tunes above eating or something cause now everyone with a pocket owns one. Which is awesome because hey, guess what! A shitty music collection is still a shitty music collection even when shrunk down and forced into your head via tiny painful "earbuds". The music does not magically get better when you can walk it to Starbucks. And ordering a coffee drink prefaced with 1500 instructions on milk to espresso ratio while bobbing your head to whichever Franz single came out that week does not make you any less idiotic. Not only does it do the complete opposite, it compounds the idiocy.
Damn. I miss jamboxes.

k) Kountry Kitchens, and when they spell it that way, and what on earth inspired them to spell it that way because it adds nothing remotely charming to the title. Wait, I mean kharming.

l) Lack thereof. Provide your own context.

m) Morrissey ordering a sandwich at a deli I bet would sound a lot like this: swiss cheese, mustard, haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAaaaaam. Because that kid does love some vowels. And some sandwiches I bet.

n) Not actually being into Morrissey. I'm going to see R.E.M. instead, as I have said many times.

o) Ohio! I hear people are having a battleground there of the election variety and alls I have to say about that is:
GET IT TOGETHER, OHIO! YOU DON'T WANT TO BE ANOTHER FLORIDA, DO YOU? WE TOTALLY MADE FUN OF FLORIDA, REMEMBER THAT? LOOK, IT'S A RELATIVELY SIMPLE PROCESS. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO TO AVOID A BATTLEGROUND IS TO PICK A CANDIDATE, NOTING THE SELECTION IN THE APPROPRIATE INSTRUCTED MANNER, WHETHER IT BE FILLING IN A BUBBLE COMPLETELY OR PULLING A LEVER- ACTIONS THAT HAVE BEEN MASTERED BY SECOND GRADERS AND PAVLOV'S DOGS THE WORLD OVER. THESE SELECTIONS WILL THEN BE COUNTED (OR "TALLIED") AND WHOEVER GETS MORE OF THEM IS THE WINNER IN THE STATE OF OHIO. I BELIEVE IN YOU OHIO. I THINK YOU CAN BRING PEACE TO THE ELECTORAL COLLEGE AND A PARTY CAKE TO WHOEVER WINS THE ELECTION.

p) Preemptive strikes against the theoretical and highly illogical. The ACLU had best get their phones out, cause they're gonna hear from me every hour, on the hour. Whenever I get around to that.

q) Quotas. Are you meeting yours?

r) the o'Reilly chronicles. A laugh a second, especially when I see a newscaster reading from it on tv. As nauseating as the entire document is, it's still better literature than Anais Nin. Who, along with Bukowski, is quite overrated.

s) Stamps. I need to get some.

t) Twos. And by that I mean people in relationships. Seriously, who do they think they're kidding?

u) "Underconstructionalism: A Study in Fragments". I am trying to develop a concise school of thought based on the above thesis title, which was wrote by yours truly. It is not going at all as planned. That is to say, it's not going. So far I have a title.

v) Vincent Gallo. Actually, I take that back. I have not been thinking about him at all, or ever really. I have no opinion or damn thing to say about him one way or the other. Which I bet just sticks in his craw, if he has a craw. I would find out about his craw situation, except as mentioned earlier, I don't give a shit.

w) Willard Scott. I hope one day he actually reads his own name off the Smuckers "Rediculously Old People's Birthday List" and proceeds to expire the same day. I know it's not good to wish someone death, but he would be 114 years old, which is just stupid old. Plus he's really annoying.

ecks) "Ecks vs. Sever vs. Frankenfish." I'd go see that.

y) Y is sometimes a vowel. What it does the rest of the time, god knows. Up to no good, I bet. I know it was singlehandedly responsible for confusing an entire generation of preschoolers with it's appearance as the "sexually ambiguous" character on a very special episode of "The Letter People."

z) Zoobooks. I think I am going to get a subscription, because there is still no better source for montly, up-to-date information about what's going on in the animal kingdom. Which is now technically an "Animal Oligarchy."

Bowie is more talented than I thought, what with the ability to make killer arrows spontaneously shoot out of his every pore.

You better slap a muzzle on that scaled-down piece of evil

Space Ghost: Welcome to the show! Tonight my guests are pork roast and fishwich... (stomach growls) I mean Michael Stipe and Lassie.
...

Space Ghost: Okay, Mike, I'm going to send you a high-pitched message that only you can hear!

Zorak: (to himself) Why me?

Space Ghost: (opens mouth, extremely high pitch sound)

Michael Stipe: (tilts head to one side) No message, Space Ghost.

Space Ghost: Okay then, sing that song, sing that, "Shiny Shiny People" song.

Michael Stipe: No.

Space Ghost: I'll get you started. (sings) "Shiny shiny people, shiny shiny people..."

Michael Stipe: I hate that song, Space Ghost.

Space Ghost: Oh, me too, Michael, me too. Say, Mike, do think I'm a shiny shiny person?

Michael Stipe: I would say yes.

Space Ghost: Yes?

Michael Stipe: Yes.

Space Ghost: You're sure?

Michael Stipe: Yes, absolutely.

Space Ghost: You don't see some dark, horrible corner inside of me somewhere?

Michael Stipe: No, none.

Space Ghost: Okay. You're sure?

Michael Stipe: Yep.

Zorak: I have a question. Is that you in the corner?

Michael Stipe: (looks down under glasses)

Zorak: (points) That way, in the corner! (picture of Zorak's band, with Michael Stipe's face in lower right corner of screen, rubbing front teeth)

Michael Stipe: That's me in the corner, yeah.

Zorak: Freaky!

-from the 1995 episode of SGC2C "Hungry"

Didn't Van Helsing fight that thing?

(thanks, Rippy,for this magnificent link)

Christmas is only a few months away.

Happy Birthday V+! Call me back or you'll never get your damn present!

Action-packed (with jam) filled weekend ahead, and boy am I all a-tizzy.

Friday, instead of working I will pay a visit to our neighbors to the north. No, not those neighbors, silly. I mean Tennessee, more specifically Nashville, more specifically the R.E.M. show. It's the 2nd annual R.E.M. road trip-o-rama. Party in the parking lot!

And it seems as though not one, but two friends who flew the coop (or wasteland) are returning for a weekend of the exact same shit that made them leave in the first place! And one is having a birthday party on Saturday night, though I won't say which. I'll leave it to the two of them to sort that out.

I am full up with tizzy! I wonder if Valium will help...

I don't know how to word what I want to convey. It has to do with being straightforward. I write a lot of nonsensical jumble on the subject of the unsaid.

God, what the fuck is even the point of trying anymore. Nothing I write here is going to matter.

Lemme know if you see a truth stick around these parts.

(falling over...now.)

I'm watching "The Man Who Fell To Earth."
I like it, but I do wish that when said man did, in fact, fall to earth, he hadn't taken discontinuity to a whole new level. Or shall we say all time low...
I do like a movie where the editing includes a portion in which all the clips are pieced together with no regard for continuity or viewer clarity. I think Matthew Barney must have been watching this movie when he numbered all the cremasters. Either that or he was really bad at counting.

I do wish more high-concepts included Bowie.

One of the things that makes The Graduate such a great film (in my opinion, though it's not as if I am attempting to defend something like Gangbang 5: The Musical!* That is to say most people would agree that The Graduate is no waste of celluloid.) is the final (diagetic*^) moment, as the getaway bus is driving away from the church. Dustin Hoffman and Katharine Ross, having just caught their collective breaths from the exhilaration of being those never-happens-in-real-life wedding crashing type romantics, stop looking at each other and stare forward. Just before the credits begin to roll, both characters experience a slight shift in facial expression- from adrenaline rush happy to slight worry/ slight panic/ okay what now. It's only a few seconds, but it changes the ending of the film so completely, so much so that missing it would be missing the entire point of the film. It shifts from an audience fulfilling happy ending to hmm...maybe they won't live happily ever after. Maybe if the cameras were still rolling they would capture the bride returning to her estranged fiance, maybe it's not so easy after all, maybe it's more like real life than scripted time frames. It's absolutely amazing that Mike Nichols managed to capture more in those five seconds than some directors do in an entire body of work. We can attempt to do what makes us happy, what seems to make us happy, to be selfish, to achieve so-called spontaniety, but there's still always that grain of doubt always so restless in the back of our mind, restless and shouting the details of forthcoming disappointments. Expectations can be such a facade, especially those involving the emotions of another human being.

Driving past the airport, the very thing which inspired the above paragraph, always makes me want to take that exit into the terminal and get on a plane. And just go somewhere, just escape. Except I always want to be with someone, preferably someone who means more than just something, and I never seem to have said accompaniment, much less the guts. I don't think it's hopeless romanticism so much as hopeless hope. Tell me everything's impossible you television cliche of a cynic, tell me nothings worth losing face and I'll tell you how little some faces are worth.

Something has to be real. Something has to be worth the doubt of living happily ever after.


*not a real movie, i don't think.
*^that was just an excuse to use the word "diagetic", such is the case with 99% of the time you happen across diagesis in all it's written incarnations. I think I've said that before, oh the deja-pointlessness.

From Eric Von Strofuckingheim's livejournal:

I'm listening to a compilation of Connecticut Hip-Hop from the late 70's and early 80's right now. Whatever happened to the Positive Choice Band.

And really, is there anything funnier than hearing someone doing a shoutout to all the towns in Connecticut?

Hartford ... We're DOWN!!!
SpringField ... We're DOWN!!!
New Haven ... Oh Yeah!
Norwalk ... We're DOWN!!!
Brisbort ... We're DOWN!!!
Waterberry ... We're DOWN!!!
MiddleTown ... We're DOWN!!!
Stamford ... We're DOWN!!!
Ensonya? ... We're DOWN!!!
Berrydun ... We're DOWN!!!

Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit. Dammit.

Yep, that's about as poetic as I'm gonna get right now.

What's worse that figure skating, you ask?
That pile of vomit band Evacescence (or however you spell it).

And what's worse than that pile of vomit band Evanescence?
Watching someone figure skate to one of their songs.

Why the hell do I continue to watch the Today Show...

Earlier one of my group heads yelled over my cubicle wall- "hey, go to melanie griffith dot com." It will be your new favorite website!

And indeed it is. Behold the crap.

I can't help but think Stevie Nicks had no small part in this.

Ok this is cute as shit:

There's something kinda scary about opening up my internet browser and having this pic pop up at me:



Damn. I mean, I've heard people bash the new R.E.M. album but at least they aren't scaring small children (who use the internet).

I just realized that the elections are only three weeks away.

Ok, actually the ten-times-daily Kerry campaign e-mail reminded me how time be a'flyin'.
Which reminded me that I need to go ahead and fill out/send in my absentee ballot.
Right now it's on my floor, and just happens to be face-up to the constitutional marriage amendment.
Ugh.

In other news, I am currently blasting "Slanted and Enchanted" on the 'ol soundsticks, much to the delight (chesley's little wrists) of my coworkers.

Today I have no sense of smell. Lunch was absolute crap.

From Fafblog...

Flowers for Derrida

Jacques Derrida died yesterday. We threw a Deathday Party to undermine the hegemonic life/death binary but for some reason everybody was still kinda sad.

"I don't get it," says me. "How could Derrida die? He was a social construct."

"True," says Giblets. "Nothin is outside the text, includin Derrida."

"Then he couldn't die," says me. "After all if he did he would be reinforcin the hegemonic Dead Derrida/Live Derrida binary."

"We must deconstruct Derrida's death!" says Giblets. "Beginning by inverting the priveleged duality! Derrida is alive!"

"He's stuffin his face with cake right now over there!" says me.

"Mmmfff," says Derrida. "Waffff uppppf fellaf."

"Derrida stop eatin all our cake!" says Giblets. "That cost good money!"
Man that Derrida's always been a greedy bastard.

I just found out that Jacques Derrida died a few days ago.
I don't know what to say about that.

Neither, I suspect, does he.

I'm glad I smoke. Otherwise I would never get any fresh air.

It's 8:45 pm, and I am still at work, revising scripts. I think partially as a result of this late working hour, and partially due to the margaritas they're handing out in the studio, I am becoming increasingly susceptable to distraction from my task at hand.

For instance, I just made up one of those stupid "blog" terms (like blogosphere, blogastroenteritis, etc.). Cause it's the thing to do when you are trying to do something else!

"Defenestration of Blog": When you throw your blog out the widow due to misconduct or general suckiness. It helps if your blog is of noble descent.
(If you have no idea what this references perhaps you had better brush up on your European History, more specifically "Thirty Years War, causes of".)

Here, someone taste this margarita and tell me if it has any alcohol in it. Cause I don't think it does.
I'm gonna have five more to make sure.

In a suprising turn of events, the moderator leads the VP candidates in an impromptu round of "The Hokey Pokey." Here we see Cheney (having put both his left and right hand in) questioning whether Edwards has the experience necessary to "shake it all about.":


Edwards retorts with "experience does not equal good judgement," all while distracting the moderator with the 'ol "detatchable finger" trick.:

Apparently I do not own envelopes.
Apparently I do not own blank sheets of paper by which to fold in an envelope-like matter.

Today after putting my two cents wortha coattail riding in at the department meeting, I somehow drifted from taking actual notes to drawing a dinosaur. With a mohawk. Giving everyone the middle claw.
It's titled "When Dinosaurs Roamed The Mall." Panagea Uber-Alles!
I should probably scan that shit in. I'll put that at the bottom of my list of "things that seemed like a good idea at the time to do".

Alright, when I say your name, you say 'here.' And we will assume 'here' is short for 'here I am...rock you like a hurricane.' -ATHF

Newly-found server functioning= catching up on posting pics...lucky you!

I need this poster. It is the pinnacle of awesomnity. If only I had a shitton of spending money...

Cremasters Of The Universe!

I just uttered the phrase "oh, except the highlander. he can't die." I would cite context, but context seems to be rapidly becoming less and less important as the hours pass. Sufficive to say that the cat is having an affair with my computer bag and there is a french paratrooper in the adjoining room (or- citing lack of parachute or biplane- perhaps simply paragroundsman, or just infantryman or if we're very lucky a french highlander like from five seconds ago with the immortality and all). And if asked to cheer up a french mercenary from the inter- highlander what to do, what to do...tup tup...tup? Of course! Give him a copy of the Law and Order Coloring Adventure Book!

As one of my coworkers exclaimed:
"You can color in your own blood and shit!" -Justin, coworker

Inching towards surreal, I think, though the early AM fog has since lifted. Fog makes everything a bit more diagetic, as do the tinkly soothing tones of listening to something I like to call aquarium rock.* Combine this with the random early morning normality of a man bidding his matching pink-attired daughters see ya later for a day of work and it makes for quite the virtual conciousness. I'm spectating like a motherfucking champ!
The entire evening was a bit (in lieu of repeating "surreal") ethereal..god that sounds too much like the screen name of a girl in her 20's that still collects pictures of fairies but spells it faeries and has that ophelia print above her bed. Phantasmagoric? No, that just makes me think of "PhantasmagoRIE!"
While I search for an adjective you kids enjoy a heaping helping of cereal!*(2)



Detatched. Everything was just student film verite and I was watching the scenery start to crack at the hinges. Mmmm...pretention.

And I will cut myself off for fear of this post turning into something cathartically unreadable.

If anyone asks, last night never happened. If you can't handle the lie, just distract them with these magical floating knives:



appendix
*aquarium rock is the subgenre of some other genre that I made up. it sounds the way you would imagine music would sound if it were played on xylophones by marine life. that is to say, it sounds a bit like the "let's go under the sea" section of my 1983 strawberry shortcake workout album.
*(2) smoke break, actually.

Why Kerry Won The Debate:

He found the audience first:






In other news, it's awfully embarrasing when two people show up in the same ill-fitting pink dress: