metropolis has finally gone online. the site could use some work - layout of stories, anyone? - but it's the first week, the first day, so i'm willing to give it a little time. i'd offer my skillz to help clean it up, but i have none. pity.

what i am not willing to give a little time is MISSPELLING MY SURNAME. i swear upon all that is unholy, if i ever get a screenplay made, i'm going to be credited under my pseudonym, which is ambiguously male/female and easy to spell/pronounce. balls.

went to the shopping center. the dollar store does not have pots. the dollar store has graters and cake tins and vacuum bags, but not pots. so i bought one at shop'n'save. and some mushrooms. and some bananas. bananas and mushrooms. and a pot. that is what i bought. i rode my bike in the duskdark and did not get run over.

the apt is a pit, as all places i inhabit seem to become due to my evergrowing laziness. gabe is coming for the weekend, arriving tomorrow afternoon. i should clean up. i will clean up.

(tomorrow.)
posted at 8:59 PM

andy's had both clam and corn chowder today but instead i took a leap of faith and went for the meatloaf sandwich special. i do not like meatloaf. or, most meatloaf. childhood meatloaf trauma, i guess. but this meatloaf was great! it was like getting a burger, only better, because i got it on a bulkie roll with cheese and fries and i read my new yorker. and the music issue finally came. but not drug refills from dad. hmm.

total expenditure: $5.61.

napped for about twenty minutes a while ago, bookended by dr laura, prepended by summer of 49, appended by a downpour. i was hoping the storm would kill off the humidity, but it hasn't. so much for biking to the minimall and getting a pot so i could make some sort of pasta for dinner. hmm.

if this day is to continue and include any sort of productivity, i am going to need mad caffeine.

[public] dixer wonders why natural selection doesn't apply to fruit flies that fly around right in front of people's faces only to draw attention to themselves and get killed.
[public] jillia: are you having a problem with fruit flies, dixer?
[public] dixer [to jillia]: yes. our office is infested with them. we suspect they're originally from outside but have taken up nesting in our pop can recycling bin.
[public] jillia: you suspect they're from outside, really? :)
[public] dixer: yes.
[public] dixer: we've recently done away with our long-held beliefs surrounding spontaneous creation.
[public] dixer: we now believe they might have come from somewhere else.
[public] jillia: like where?
[public] dixer: outside.

posted at 5:28 PM

fell asleep after 2a, listening to NOT ART BELL. yeah, stupid pre-season nfl game wrap-up was on. i hate that shit. decided before i fell asleep that i would wake up at 9a. i woke up at 9a. how do i do that? it's so strange.

in my dream my brother and i were in zero-g outerspace and had to put a bike back together and i couldn't figure out how to get the tires on the wheels or even get the tires circular again because they had been cut and straightened out, and then once i did that how to blow them up. and my cousins kept barging in but we were supposed to be working in separate rooms and they were spying on our methods. and i was afraid to sneeze and breathe because i was in outerspace and if i started thinking about sneezing and breathing i would no longer be able to sneeze or breathe. also there was something about playing hearts with joshva and some other people and they were cheating and i was losing and maybe they weren't cheating but i was still losing, there was some key piece of information about how the game is played that i was missing, and it was highly frustrating. and somehow david letterman was involved in the outerspace thing. and david letterman's mom.

i'm feeling poor, in the wallet. i think i spend too much money on eating out. part of it is the food, part of it is the atmosphere. so, i am going to keep track. and in the spirit of having something to keep track of, i'm going to go get chowder at andy's.

oh, shit. wait. poor paul's opens at 4p and they will have tacos and maybe tamales.. hmm.

fuck it, i'll go to both. unless it's raining, which it's looking like it might.

"she can't take much more o' this, cap'n! i think i need another tvinkie!"
posted at 11:26 AM

my head is almost as muddy as the mp3s i made tonight from my bright eyes minidisc recording. i did the first three tracks. they sound crappy. i'll probably redo them. i can already tell i'm going to spend hours on this project until i master them properly.

farmers market bounty: summer squash, zucchini, corn, lemon cucumber, green tomatoes.

yawn. my left hand is very itchy.

i'm remembering why i don't eat snack foods.

***
he whipped the basketball at brian, bullet-whipped it, without thinking about it. his hands operated independent of any instruction from his brain. nerves tingled in his fingers as if they had their own set of firing neurons. the orange comet caught brian full in the chest, hitting him with a dull thwock. it was hard to tell if the rush of air was the ball deflating or brian's lungs. squig's ears weren't sure what they were hearing, and squig himself did not watch. squig himself looked at his forearms and his clenching fingers, joints doubling in on themselves, strangling things he could not see. he felt confused. it had happened so fast. whatever it was that had happened - again, he wasn't sure. his ears couldn't tell him, and behind his eyes was a roaring blackness that made him think of sitting in the bathtub, watching the water swirl down into that invisible place that waste disappeared to when his body was done with it. a black hole, his dad called it, explaining space phenomena. a hole that ate itself, that ate everything that came inside and then consumed its own flesh when it ran out of other starfood. he'd shut off the faucet and leave squig to splash in the tub, telling him to treat the drain with caution or he'd come back and find him missing pieces. so squig would be careful, so careful, because he wanted to be a whole boy for his father and not miss a single molecule or second. "raisin up, bobber" his dad would say when he returned, and squig would put up his hands to show that he still had all ten fingers and everything was neat and clean and complete and good.

it wasn't until later that he made the connection between his prune-tipped fingers and his father's command. that it wasn't a command but a comment, a jest. he'd looked at his hands then the way he was looking at them now, like they had betrayed him and done something of their own accord rather than his, like they'd gone off and gotten an education that he hadn't signed off on. like they'd gotten smarter than him, faster than him. those aren't mine. those are grown-up hands. those are the hands of a man. he wondered if this was how amputees with fake limbs felt. bionic men. bionic boys with toys that worked for them until one day they decided to think for themselves.

"what the fuck was that for?" shouted brian. "i drop a load on you and you can't take it? you gotta shovel shit at me? be a man."

squig looked up from his hands and stared a moment, slow to answer. the sun was too bright, the sweat was too shiny, his breath was too ragged. he shook it off and blinked twice. "two out of three. you're gonna wish we were playing five-on with zone."

"yeah? fine. just save the flagrants for the game, primapussy."

"okay."

brian checked the ball, harder than he had to. squig sent it back soft. they bumped against each other, engaging in a sweaty asphalt ballet, muscling for position, slapping, grabbing, pushing, shoving, grunting. squig reached in and ripped the ball away, drove past brian for a layup.

"2-ought."

"not for long."

"dream on."

squig did not like to lose. ever. when you lost, people forgot about you, and when they forgot about you, you existed a little bit less. things were hard enough without having to regain ground. there wasn't enough time to allow losing and the ensuing scramble and still remember to breathe.
***

"WHAT'S MY MUTHAFUCKIN NAME?"
posted at 11:35 PM

and.. i did it. turned out eh. we'll see. i had to dash out to the post office shortly before noon because crucial now sucks and returning stuff sucks and rma stuff sucks and i don't want to think about it anymore right now. grr. grr. grr.

FULL OF HATE.

check came from CHICKENFRIED. hooray!

"since i'm in a position to talk to these kids and they listen
i ain't no politician but i kick it with 'em a minute
'cause see they call me a menace and if the shoe fits i'll wear it
but if it don't then y'all are swallowin' the truth grin and bear it
now who's the king of these rude ludicrous lucrative lyrics
who could inherit the title, put the youth in hysterics
using his music to steer it, sharin' his views and his merits
but there's a huge interference, they're sayin' you shouldn't hear it
maybe it's hatred i spew, maybe it's food for the spirit
maybe it's beautiful music i made for you to just cherish
but i'm debated disputed hated and viewed in america
as a motherfuckin' drug addict - like you didn't experiment?
and that's when you start to stare at who's in the mirror
and see yourself as a kid again and you get embarrassed
and i got nothin' to do but make you look stupid as parents
you fuckin' do-gooders, too bad you couldn't do good at marriage
and do you have any clue what i had to do to get here
i don't think you do so stay tuned and keep your ears glued to the stereo"

posted at 2:11 PM

right, so, i'm up. been up for a while but felt too ill to get out of bed. odd. probably a function of lack of sleep, passed out somewhere after 3a. art bell had on this irish guy named colin o'something or mcwhatever who was talking about crop circles and arecibo. sometimes when you just hear a snippet of an accent it sounds like a different accent and not the accent that it really is.

500 words to go. ugh.

okay. i can do this.

"i'm waiting for blood to flow to my fingers
i'll be alright when my hands get warm"
posted at 9:50 AM

my theory is that bob hope does not have pneumonia and is actually already dead. my evidence? this picture, which looks an awful lot like bob has been taxidermied and turned into a ventriloquist's dummy. a) look at his jaw and b) look at the guy cropped out of the picture beside him, who seems to have his arm inserted into dummy-bob's back. coincidence? i think not.

tv half-written. need more caffeine/sugar. langley variety is closed. hmm.

also architect because howard roark is such an excellent name. i like to say "roark," as well as "howard roark." it is not as assonant as peter keating. it is better.

***
squig was five when his dad came home from the pokey. that's what his brother always called it, not prison or jail or lockup or pen, just pokey. squig would shut his eyes at night and imagine his father standing in a circle with other men, laughing gaily, shaking his leg. doing the hokey pokey. turning his life around. that's what it's all about.

then one day the hokey pokey was finished and his dad came home, and he sat squig on his knee and said, "bobby boo, i'm going to make a man out of you." squig liked it when his dad said things like that, the way they rhymed and the meter of the words, even though he didn't know that was the reason. he smiled at his father.

"okay."

he let his dad roll up his sleeve, and when he told him to shut his eyes, squig obeyed. and then there was a poke, and burning, and then another poke, and another, and his arm shook so that when it was all over the cross that had just been tattooed on his unmarked skin was a curvy mess. a squiggle of green, an indelible reminder of what happens when you do the hokey pokey and don't turn your life around.

squig's father died in the pokey four years later, but by then squig called it by its rightful name: gone. and nobody called him bobby boo anymore.
***

"howard roark laughed."
posted at 12:53 AM

dad reminded me that i wanted to be a magician. and we all know how that turned out. he also posited that i wanted to be an architect, but i'm doubtful; it's possible, yes, but unlikely, given that i have no artistic talent whatsoever. i'm too logical, anyway. i probably thought about it for about five minutes because i liked the idea of building things. or because i'm obsessed with other people's houses/apts/places of residence and how they look inside, layout-wise.

code red ingested, nausea jumpstarted. i will read espn's summer spotlight on the jazz, which will prompt more nausea and possibly some vomit and maybe even some boiling blood as i'm sure it will say how great el fucko grande is. then i will begin writing about eBayTV.

keef made shirts! i might have to buy one even though they are relatively expensive with shipping, and they are white, which makes me antsy, and they break my rule of not wearing shirts that contain urls. the bunny picture is drowning me with the hard sell.
posted at 10:15 PM

well well well, the king of all assholes has reentered the ranks of amusing non-nba careers.

joel asked me if i had aspirations to be a movie star when i was young, like five, and i realized that i had no aspirations at all, other than to be happy. i have no idea what i wanted to be when i grew up, if i had any thoughts on the subject is all. all i can remember is being in bed at night, trying to sleep, crazed with thoughts of how i was to escape my room if there was a fire, if i could get the window open - it was a big window - if i could get the storm window up in time, if i could get the screen off, if i could survive the drop to the ground. how i would have to jump very carefully to land on the narrow strip of grass at the side of the house instead of the cement path, how i would stop the smoke from getting under the door from the hallway, if i should keep a towel in my closet to stuff under the door for such a purpose. if the fish would boil in their tank, or if my dad would rescue them. if the lice check at school tomorrow was going to come up positive, how when the licebusters come around i put my head down on the desk and i pray that it won't be me, that it won't be anybody in my class so i won't have to see how they are sent home to shampoo out the epidemic and how close they are to touching me. how i am afraid to scratch my head and will grit my teeth and wait for the itching to stop because if i scratch it that is giving in and admitting that my scalp is crawling with bugs. how this was not when i was nine or ten or eleven but six, six years old and the summer before second grade and mom picks me up from baseball practice to go home to do family things because my grandfather has died and my brother is in the backseat and she tells me that he has lice and i rocket straight off the seat so that my hair is no longer touching it because i am so panicked that i will get them too, and the car smells of hot carpet, and i am six and worrying about everything so much that i cannot sleep and have to sit on the toilet for hours until my bowels calm down enough for me to move. how when school starts in september i won't come out of the bathroom when the carpool honks. how when my parents go out when we have a babysitter i cannot sleep until they come home, and if they are later than they say i stay up imagining that they have been somehow killed and are never returning. how when i am the babysitter, years later, it is the same. how in the summer the bathroom at school is used as a changing room for camp before swim, and i take drastic measures to avoid touching the floor with any bare skin, not even letting my own clothes touch the cold, slimy tile, how i can stand on one foot for minutes at a clip to do this without contact, how i will stand on shoes and socks and gym bag to stay germ-free, how i never used the toilet at school in 13 years, not once.

how when i am doing hundreds of math problems fast, fast, faster, there is no chance to worry about anything but reliable numbers.

how i have never been happier.

this is a really horrifying realization, to realize that you spent so much time being anxious that you never had a chance to be ambitious.

<log> i re-ip'd my workstation today
<log> im outside the firewall now
<log> 2 un.broken.com (207.88.53.10) 0.433 ms 0.492 ms 0.530 ms
<log> much better ping times to my colo network :P
<oppsie> unF.broken.com
<log> unf.oppsie.until.i.make.her.com

posted at 6:04 PM

finally got up the nerve to call CHICKENFRIED on his cell. i decided to try one more time at home, since i hadn't yet tried, only had morrow try. so i tried. and he answered. and we spoke, and he had sent the check yesterday, and i told him i wanted to send jill over to pick something up, and all is well.

the relief is trickling out of my stomach, quickly replaced by cold dread about other things.
posted at 3:34 PM

FREAKING OUT. i have to deal with this subletter mess and i am fucking freaking out, and i have no job to go back to in nyc, and i have no idea what i am doing with my life, and i am wasting my time at everything.

sheri im'd me about a bad yama report on citysearch and all i saw was the url and i thought it was something actually about me, like maybe CHICKENFRIED had posted about me being a bad sublet landlord, and now my heart is racing like andretti.

it is offensively beautiful out today. sunshine, breeze, lazy clouds clicheing an impossibly blue sky. i walked to the park at the corner of lake and massabesic to read this half-finished "novel" that a friend of my dad's wrote. he told me he's been working on it for ten years. every other sentence starts with a prepositional or participial phrase. he expects me to give him feedback. this is the second time i've tried to read it; the first was four months ago. this time i finished. but i still have no idea what to say.

i mean, really. the title is innocent until proven guilty. what can you do with that?

a couple of high school boys came to hoop while i was finishing up the "novel," deshirted and flawless in their seventeendom. i have decided their names are brian and squig. brian had an outline tattoo of a antlered buck on his arm. squig had something that i couldn't make out. their basketball was flat, and they knew it, and it slapped at the ground with a hollow laugh, clanked off the rim at awkward angles that come from roundballs that are not perfectly round. but they didn't mind. they played anyway.

"i know the pieces fit 'cause i watched them fall away
mildewed and smoldering, fundamental differing"
posted at 2:33 PM

happy hour at the pub is good. memory not working is not good. i said fuck you to ups and showered around 3, during which they conveniently dropped the package at my door without making me sign for it (huh?). i walked right on top of it when i rolled my bike out the door to ride downtown, so i put the trip on hold for 15 minutes to test out the memory.

nope. same problem. so, knowledge gained, energy lost. solutions include backing up stuff i want to keep (read: gigs and gigs of mp3s) on gabe's machine when he visits this weekend, but that will require getting recovery discs from dad; or just wait til i get back to nyc and backup to my desktop. they're both the same solution, just a matter of when.

ordinary people made me want to be back in high school so i could fix all the damage that has been done before it got beyond repair. (and also to make a man of timothy hutton, OH MY GOD HE IS HOT.)

at the pub i sat next to a guy named bill who comes to the pub after physical therapy next door. from what i could understand, he shattered his ankle climbing down from a big chemical vat at work, the ladder rung snapped. one day he was leaving pt and he found a dimebag on the ground, and at first he wasn't sure what it was, but he picked it up and thought it looked like weed, and he opened it up and smelled it and knew it was weed, and then he looked up and saw this black kid pressed up against the window staring at him and the weed. so bill waved at the kid and gave him a thumbs up and walked off. with the weed.
posted at 9:35 PM

tv edit sent and accounted for, yogurt and water consumed. stephijo told me she got picked up to continue fulltime freelance after fall preview is over at tvg. i'm getting a little nervous that there won't be a slot for me when i get back in october, but i'm trying not to worry too much. yet. they inexplicably love me there. so far. and claim they want to rehire me. or so they say.

rest of the day: continue freaking out about the sublet situation; sit around and stew while waiting for ups to show up; put in new memory when ups arrives and discover that it doesn't work; call ups to sked yet another rma pickup; watch ordinary people; go to the wild rover if my chicken is not defrosted by 4p (things ain't lookin good) for happy hour and 2-for-1 tuesday.
posted at 12:27 PM

up up and away. been up for an hour and a half, working on tv edit with comments from the other white meat. barfola.
posted at 9:45 AM

i have no food. choices are a) go to billy's bar and get clam chowder and beer b) watch ordinary people on my laptop or c) go read in bed.

i think i'm going with c, because i feel crappy.
posted at 10:11 PM

three down, one to go. oh, oh, oh.
posted at 7:15 PM

just walked in. (just got paid.)

once again, the bus smelled like pee. maybe it was the guy who sat next to me, who had a shaved head and was wearing a homemade tshirt that on the front said "we need space to grow" and on the back said "ask me about offworld jobs". mmm. blade runner. mmm. i had an hour to kill before the bus so i went to chinatown and had dim sum at china pearl. just a couple of dishes. quite tasty. makes taking the bus worth it.

boston was good++. aunt carol and matt and mike crack my shit up, what with matt calling aunt carol a bitch and telling her to shut the fuck up and her dishing it right back. ah, family. uncle daniel made sushi for dinner, which floored me - i wasn't expecting him to be in the country, let alone make sushi. it was >*. watched american movie with the cousins (mike pronounced it sad, which it is), showed matt and aunt carol my magazines, went with matt to best buy etc to price out stereos. all good.

hmm. sulfacet.

word to the wise: traveling on a deadline day is dumb, dumb, dumb. time to work, work, work.
posted at 4:54 PM

breakfast was good. then it reappeared.

i wonder if i am allergic to coffee, or if it causes me to overeat, or something, because when i drink coffee i feel unspeakably ill. and then some days i puke it back up. like today.

blech.
posted at 9:54 AM

success. i am awake.
posted at 8:14 AM

finished fab 5 frederick and nba trivia, drank some beer, pondered my navel, plotted bus skeds for tomorrow and monday. i think it would be prudent to go read in bed and sleep now, then get up around 8a, shower, dress, hit up andy's for breakfast/coffee/caffeine, then work for a couple of hours on david byrne and nancy drew before catching the 1210p bus to boston. yes. i feel this is a good plan. a very good plan indeed.

my mom read nancy drew. but i read bobbsey twins.
posted at 12:00 AM

caribbean festival was lame++. no people, lame mc, food choices less than. i had some decent jerk chicken with rice and beans and a ting soda, but it was nothing spectacular. that was this afternoon. i tried going again just now to sample the other food option, but the festival was.. gone. i mean, no sign that anything had been going on other than a lone straggling couple dragging away a green cooler. i thought i had heard strains of music, but i was wrong. so i went to the diner instead and had death by chocolate creme pie, which was quite delicious, although not as delicious as the assortment of crazybum regulars present and accounted for. my old friend marvin was there, although we didn't speak. instead i talked to an odd late middle-aged man who kept asking me how the pie was, and then telling me he couldn't have it because he was diabetic. (death by chocolate, indeed.) i didn't get his name. then the popo pulled up in the parking lot next door and this one guy with a scraggly brown fumanchu dripping down his face kept putting his arms up and claiming that was how they took mugshots now, but eileen the waitress was skeptical because then how would you hold the board with the numbers on it, and they all crowded around the window wondering what officer bob was going to do.

he came in the diner and ordered turkey and gravy.

at this point i left and rode home, because i was finished with my pie and all i had to drink was a glass of water. but, oh, i wanted to stay. i wanted to stay with those people and watch them and be a little writer nerd in the corner taking copious notes with my eyes and joke with the crazies and be a part of something.

i wanted marvin to say hello.

instead, i got on my bike and rode home in the dwindling twilight. i took a circuitous route, much turning and sampling of different blocks, because i could swear i heard that music again. sometimes it seemed to be over here, and sometimes over there, and eventually i caught up to it on the corner of union and spruce.

a tent revival. with a men's chorus, under the tent, twenty strong, maybe more, singing about being blessed. i wanted to stay and watch but there were other people staying and watching and i was out of place. i rode home along spruce street, which i've never done; spruce is the street i always have to stop at as i'm coasting down the hill towards lake because spruce has the right of way and i am afraid of getting run over. spruce is the obstacle, not the path. on spruce i was catcalled by strange men and almost ran into a parked car because the sidewalk suddenly narrowed and cliffed and was overgrown by tenacious foliage and i was scared of falling off, like i was scared of the bees at the park today even though i'm not scared of bees any more in my mind, and i squealed my bike to a halt and nearly tumbled anyway.

i rode slow past poor paul's, which has finally opened - it's housed in part of the old empire movie theatre, and as i ambled past this large teenage mexican fellow rocketed out the door and called to me as i was leaving him in the dust, and i turned around because i was curious. and he asked my my name and asked me to come in and bring any friends if i had them and there were several more mexican fellows inside and a particularly skinny, ugly one came out and they asked my name again and upon a splitsecond's reflection i told them it was jane. after much inquisition they admitted that they had mexican food and i asked what kind and he mentioned tamales and i said yeah? and he said yeah and then he asked the cook if there were tamales and the cook said no, and i asked when they might have some and he said friday. i said i would return on friday. regreso en viernes. i am not sure if my name will still be jane on friday. but i am sure i will still not have three friends to bring as he wants me to.

survey says that if you have facial hair, you automagically look like a criminal in any black and white photograph. even if you are seth green and you are smiling.

i wonder what jane does for a living.
posted at 8:15 PM

finished. i reread the message about the acct being deleted, and i misread it. netware accts going away, not unix.itd. fucked up again, as usual.

to do today: go to caribbean festival, mon; transcribe stupid interview with stupid microsoft guy; write david byrne item; finish transcribing fab 5 freddy; write fab 5 freddy q&a; write nancy drew item; work on nba trivia.

i do not get ulcers.

but sometimes i wish i did.
posted at 10:55 AM

back to the email grind. or, i've been at for an hour. woke up inexplicably early. (well, not inexplicably early - 930a is not early - but i'd fallen asleep long after 3a.) this process is drowning me in letters and numbers and past.
posted at 10:39 AM

here's a shocker: i completely forgot to go the farmers market yesterday. like, i forgot it even existed.

grumblesigh.

i just would forget my stupid name.

i never said "don't go."

don't go.
posted at 1:40 AM

now i'm starting to wonder if the acct is really going away, since i found an email from 5/2000 saying 'it's going away' and then it never did. hmm. oh well, better safe than sorry.

i've now been staring at old email for at least five hours. i whittled down 1100+ messages to 200+. i'll finish the rest tomorrow. my head is exploding. plus i drank a code red for dinner.

there is a caribbean festival tomorrow downtown. i don't mind - a foodie never would - but what is up with all the ethnicity-flaunting around here?
posted at 1:16 AM

my unix.itd umich acct is finally going away. end of an era. i've spent all night going through my old email and i'm only half done. this takes forever.

going through old email is very depressing. especially since i'm in the middle of the hopwood/ew internship period where everything seemed to be going right. where everything was going right.

i wish i could pinpoint exactly when i lost any and all faith in my abilities and myself. but secretly, i think i know. i'm just not telling. not yet.

"but the hours they creep, the patterns repeat
don't be concerned, you know i'll be fine on my own
i never said, 'don't go.'

don't go"
posted at 11:14 PM

we left the auction empty-handed, but i found it an apt metaphor for the dotcom inflation sans followup: autions are for suckers and skeptics. i saw so much stuff go for way more than it was worth, it was ridiculous. still, kind of fun. they had real live auction guys calling it, you know, 'doihearfortyfortyintheroomfiftyfiftydoihearfifytfiftytomyleftdoihearseventyfiveseventyfive' etc. there's schools for that sort of thing. i remember reading about it. or maybe an auction school spec got sold. one or the other.

and next on the list of dream jobs..
posted at 6:37 PM

i had a bunch of weird dreams, including emailing cousin anna an email that included the phrase 'deep dicking'. my uncle read it and was kind of mad that i would use such language with a 13 year old, but then we had a scholarly discussion of romeo and juliet and some other movie with similar themes. in another on i was at some cranbrook banquet with lil phillips after leaving a class presentation to do a phoner on my cell. noelle doner was there and introduced me to her fiancee, she didn't think i would remember her from freshman year of high school but i cut her off at the pass and was like 'yes i do, you're noelle doner.' there was also some climbing of a large, large, large ladder/escalator thing that kept breaking apart. wish i remembered more.

scott is on his way to manchville. we're going to a dotbomb auction. oddly enough, the vitts data center here in town was purchased by factset, which is where jeremie and sheri and ben and chet and a couple other acquaintances of mine work in ct. life is synergistically strange.
posted at 8:55 AM

holy shitballs i am so tired tired tired. no code red because langley's is closed. what up with that? (more proof of the conspiracy against me.) i'm transcribing interviews. i'm falling asleep. i'm the king of the world.
posted at 10:44 PM

HATRED OF LIFE. (for some reason this mantra makes me also want to sing vision of love. i, too, belong in the loony bin.)

called crucial, they are sending me rma for the ram and a new 128mb. we'll see if that one works. if it doesn't, i might jump out the window.

i live on the fourth floor.

<oppsie> krom: how you pay your rent? are you their manwhore? :)
<KRomeleoN> well, i was on unemployment but that ran out
<KRomeleoN> just recently
<oppsie> where'd you lose a job?
<KRomeleoN> toys r us
<KRomeleoN> i got fired in december when theyd hire anyone
<oppsie> did you try to molest the five year olds?
<KRomeleoN> i got caught strealing skittles
<oppsie> oh man
<Man250> hahaha
<oppsie> that is really funny
<Man250> what happened they put you in a candy jail
<oppsie> like real skittles or from the stale skittle machine you drop a quarter in and turn the crank?
<KRomeleoN> i was the bike salesman, so they show me a video. its me in the back throwing bikes off a 30 foot shelf instead of carrying them down a ladder. then u see me pull out a huge knife from my pocket and open a huge box of skittles

posted at 3:32 PM

well whaddayafuckingknow, the ram DOESN'T FUCKING WORK. i wrangled with it for three and a half hours, then threw in the towel and went to billy's sports bar for burger, beers and bosox. goddammit. GODDAMMIT.

so here's what happened: i opened up the 256mb chip to put in, and the profile is too high to fit in the slot properly. so much for busting the max ram. so, fine. so i open up the 128mb chip, put it in, boot the machine, bios sees 192mb, hooray!, and then win98 gives a windows protection error while trying to start up. oh holy fucking hell. i boot into safe mode and safe mode sees 192mb, try win98 again, same deal. i go through every possible troubleshoot that support.microsoft suggests. nothing works.

nothing fucking works.

<oppsie> i'm listening to the new michael jackson song
<bossh0g> is it shitty?
<oppsie> i think it can safely be said that there is now no longer any difference between justin timberlake and michael jackson
<bossh0g> hahahahah
<oppsie> except that justin is blacker

posted at 11:00 PM

ups finally came. fuckers. so i sat around all day in my pjs waiting, unable to shower in case i missed them, unable to go fax my shit to seventeen. i don't understand why everything i touch turns to fecal matter, why everything that can go wrong, will. i hate that i feel justified in asking "why me?" i fucking hate that.

because at some point, i believe that something will work out right. more than once a year. more than once a life.

okay, time to put in new memory. at least there's a payoff.

<bossh0g> Do u hear that?
<bossh0g> that is the sound of my penis banging against my zipper.
<oppsie> i don't hear anything.
<oppsie> so that makes sense.

posted at 5:51 PM

things that are not cool in my book include being woken up after four hours sleep at 8a because some fuckers are jackhammering across the street. they appear to be digging coffin-sized holes. perhaps they're looking for jimmy hoffa.

the wait for ups begins. i'm sure they won't show up until 6p, meaning i am unable to shower or leave the apt for fear but not risk of missing them.

zzz.
posted at 8:43 AM

enough is enough. busted my wordcount, managed to wrap it up at the end, made a good beavis and butthead joke. i will clean it up in the morning, when i will realize that it sucks. or that i never wrote it at all and only thought that i did, sleeping in the safety of the lie i have convinced myself is the truth.

<KRomeleoN> ive earned $49.28 at mp3.com with my ep
<KRomeleoN> 72 more cents and i get sent a 50 dollar check
<mahn> imagine the beer you can get for 50 bucks
<mahn> it'll last you for a few days
<mahn> !
<KRomeleoN> i know, i can get 100 natural ice cans
<orpheus> or you could vomit in a cup
<orpheus> for free

"this is where i say i've had enough
and no one should ever feel the way that i feel now
a walking open wound, a trophy display of bruises
and i don't believe that i'm getting any better"
posted at 2:26 AM

well doesn't this just fucking take the cake. i just got another receipt in email from crucial. another? yes, i already got two, for the first two - and heretofore assumed only - sticks of ram i had ordered. yeah, so it turns out that all that time i spent deciding that i had never completed the second order? yeah, so i was wrong. i forgot, and in my forgetfulness i convinced myself i forgot when i did not forget.

i forgot.

what the fuck is happening to me.

JamesMorrow123: i have this terror that my stepmother will turn my dad's spread into a buddhist lama retreat house or something after he goes.
JamesMorrow123: actually my plan is to just torment her with lawsuits. alternatively, if i ever have money, to buy the property next door and turn it into the most god-awful doublewide development into the state.
JamesMorrow123: i mean, i would get the trashiest of white trash in there. like, if you didn't have some assaults or domestic violence or duis in your background, you couldn't live there.
oppsie1: "check your shampoo at the door"
oppsie1: actually
JamesMorrow123: "no toothbrushes allowed"
oppsie1: "check your delousing shampoo at the door"
oppsie1: i need like an internet secretary
oppsie1: who will keep track of my movements and conversations
JamesMorrow123: hey have you sent that check yet?
oppsie1: heh
JamesMorrow123: what's so funny?
oppsie1: fuck you white trash
JamesMorrow123: AND I WOULD CALL THE TRAILER PARK:
JamesMorrow123: GRUBMAN MEADOWS
oppsie1: OH MY GOD
oppsie1: I JUST PEED OUT MY NOSE

posted at 11:54 PM

mmm, drugs, i love you.

(skyscraper, you are second best.)
posted at 5:23 PM

revised to-do list: eat copious amounts of ibuprofen and naproxen, crawl to bed and writhe in pain. fucking cramps. fucker.
posted at 2:41 PM

i was simply not intended to be awake before 10a. i forced myself up at 8a, showered, wandered to the drugstore to get cash, went to andy's, bolted a couple cups of coffee, had eggs and sausage, came home, suppressed urge to vomit everything up. ugh. ugh ugh.

cannot keep eyes open.

today's to-do list: research/interview fab 5 freddy; tv thing; fax clips to seventeen; research methods of getting to wellesley; transcribe.
posted at 11:28 AM

usps so fucking fired. i set up my mail forward, they sent me a confirmation letter, and yet it is not being forwarded. i got a packet from CHICKENFRIED that included the long-delayed cable bill and some other mail. wtf. so today i rode downtown to buy stamps to pay off the bill, and i have fifty cents in my pocket so i stop at the atm outside the post office, pull out my collection of cards the resides in my back right pocket, and discover that my atm card is missing. i mailed the bill with the little change i had on me, then rode back home in annoyance since i'd really had my heart set on a piece of diner pie. a thorough search of the pile of clothes on my floor, my bag, and the rest of the apartment revealed no green citizens bank card. i just called and cancelled it and had them send a new one. 7-10 days. fucker.

on the plus side, seventeen called and wants clips. on the minus side, it turns out i have way less clips here than i thought. fucker.

and yes, that was a clip of bunny lake is missing, my favorite obscure movie, that brenda was watching in bed in the first hour of the double-whammy six feet under season ender. i can't decide if i'm bitter or pleased about its usage. fucker.

i'm supposed to be constructing some 850-odd words of wit and wisdom on television for metropolis and i'm so not in the mood and i didn't even have a dollar to go buy some code red caffeine and this is so not happening tonight. fucker.
posted at 12:15 AM

yeah, so apparently i never finished my order of that stick of ram. i am forgetting more and more things lately. i take meds at 10a when i wake up (or.. i don't) and by 1030a i completely cannot remember if i've done it or not, and i have to decide whether i'm going to assume i did or did not, and what to do next. it's the same way at night, and when i wake up - did i take them last night? did i take them this morning? i don't know why this is happening. i'd like it to stop. just another manifestation of the larger problem, i'm sure.

fuck.

(and monkey is down for system upgrades, so i can't do some work-related email that i - this will shock you, so prepare yourself - forgot to do and put off until now, and i can't post this.)

life is full of crumby toenail clippings right now. as per usual.
posted at 1:00 AM

the sum total of today's procrastination has been 75 words of snark about that gameboy-controlled sewing machine. eh.

cleveland might be getting some big ollie style. i can't decide if i am more entertained by the story's lede graf or by the apparently subconscious substitution of "7.9 pounds" for "7.9 points".

dammit, why can't coast to coast be on earlier?

dammit, why can't i be more productive?

dammit, when am i going to buy a clue?

"meet me later in the file room
i forgive you for the music you like
i only want to see you
once more before i leave"
posted at 12:34 AM

it's an ethnic weekend, it seems, so i rode my bike to a greek orthodox church a few miles away where they had a greekfest under a large, unairconditioned tent. spinach pie, to die for souvlaki, and loukoumathes that i nearly puked back up with syrup-covered joy. other than food, though, there was nothing redeeming about it beyond the abundance of greek noses and old men who look like busmalis. there were like fifty raffle tables covered in crap prizes that made my skin crawl. although at one table way off to the side i found the following two books: please help me, god, by sister mary rose mcgeady, in which sister mary rose mcgeady relates a tale of tawdry sex and other things that nuns should probably not admit they know; and the sheriff with the wyoming-size heart, by kathy jacobson, which is a (surprise!) romance novel. sadly, i did not have the money for them or any way to transport them home, as i didn't bring my bag with me and spent my last dollar on food, glorious food.

jammed my second redbull in as many days on my ride home. sugar+caffeine double plus good.

and.. i ordered more ram! a 256mb stick this time, because after doing some research i discovered that my mobo can very likely handle that much, which would bring my total memory to 320mb instead of a measly 192. unfortunately, now i'm lusting after every computer part under the sun (30g laptop hard drive $200, oh god), as well as a tech support job in which i can do things like counsel cpu rubes like morrow all day long, because, damn, i'm good at it, and i love it, and i want to get paid for it. hmm. so, if the 256 doesn't work, i can use the 128 i ordered, and if it does work, i can return the 128. crucial has a nice return policy.

and this is my new best friend.

things i forgot to mention from the boston evening: the building next to the lowell, ma, bus station once advertised "hood's vegetable pills" but now the paint on brick is faded. and on the bus to boston two old indian men got on at the nashua stop and sat in front of me, and they smelled like burnt piss and shared a two-litre of diet coke. but one of them had a wife seated across the way.
posted at 3:06 PM

in my boredom tonight i started investigating the expandability of my laptop, which isn't very, and came up with the one thing i can do: add slightly more memory. so i'm bumping from 128mb to 192mb for a mere $30 (free 2-day shipping!). i almost fucked it up and bought a stick of 64 instead of 128, but then i did a little more research right before i finished checking out and it appears that the way they do the 128 standard is that there's 64 fixed onboard and 64 removable, and to get to 192 you have to replace that with a 128. should be here by wednesday. the easy part is ordering it. the scary part is installing it without destroying my whole machine.

now if only i could add a second hard drive, or cheaply replace my 8gig.

also watched startup.com vcd. good, sad, regretful, eh. but! moulin rouge telecine just came out, and i downloaded the 10mb sample mpeg and it looks and sounds sooooooooooo good i am beside myself with joy. oh, and thursday's bb2, as g charles informed me, was fucking priceless. everybody sobbing their eyes out live on national television. i don't think it's an exaggeration to say that 35 of the show's 44 minutes featured somebody weeping, crying, or balls-out bawling. i'm sure it's only a matter of time before they start throwing feces at each other.
posted at 12:17 AM

i got up this morning wondering what to do with myself and started thumbing through the latest hippopress. there's a greekfest going on at some church within biking distance, and i was all set in my mind to go check it out when i kept thumbing and discovered that downtown in veterans park there's a latino festival. the possibility of tamales or arepas? i'm so there.

neither were available, but i had some great rice, empanadas, a strange ball-like thing with meat and bananas that was billed as an arcapuria. then i wandered about the park a little and listened to what i believe was a puerto rican band. there were a bunch of politician tables since there's a city government election coming up. i saw matching father and son curly mullets (mulletos?). also there was a "central park" tent where a bunch of guys named hector wearing puerto rican flag wifebeaters molest women while the police stand by and do nothing. it was just like home.

after an hour or two i came back home and tried to get morrow's computer working again. no dice, but i think i'm getting closer; it seems like a dns issue. i attempted to defrost some chicken breasts for dinner but a) they were still frozen and b) at the fest one tent was charcoal-grilling chorizo and it looked and smelled so good and i said fuck it i'll bike it off and went back downtown and got one for dinner. and another empanada. mmm. sausage.
posted at 8:49 PM

the way to conduct an interview with a shitty suction pickup and a heretofore assumed-untappable cell phone is to clamp the cup directly on the speaker, speak into the phone likea walkie-talkie, and listen on headphones using the md player as a passthru. the way to fuck things up is to drop the md player on your way out of the cab at the bus station, which happened because you were in a rush because the interview was supposed to be happening right then and the bus was coming soon except the bus ended up being half an hour late so really there was no reason to rush at all. and over an hour late into beantown.

po and i ate at pearl farm in chinatown, where we had some sort of corn soup, lobster with scallions and ginger, and beef satay. and some free dessert that po couldn't identify but we jointly determined it was minitapioca pearls in a thin, sugary yogurt-flavored broth. po speaks mandarin! and taiwanese! (but not thai.) and communicates with the waitress! even though we were both deeply offended when she came and offered us.. a fork. ugh. the nerve. lobster in the shell is not a simple endeavor when you are operating with chopsticks, but it is perfectly doable.

i didn't call a cab before the bus got back into manchester on the off chance that there'd be cabs waiting. not so much. in fact, the entire bus station was closed. i called the cab co but nobody answered, so i cursed and started walking towards home. but then i tried again and they answered and they sent a cab. when the cab arrived i made as to get in it and then there was this mexican family there, two big adults and three kids, and we'd both called a cab and the cabbie didn't know who he was fetching and i said "go ahead, i'll wait for another cab" and they said "no, no!" and were very insistent that i get in the front seat and they get in the back. so all five of them piled in the back, the three kids on top of each other, the mom at some weird angle, the dad/uncle/whoever - named hector! - shoving them all towards the far side of the car, and off we went. two minutes into the ride the cabbie goes "i just got kicked in the rear" and i thought maybe he meant he'd been rear-ended before he picked us up but then he goes "there, i just got booted in the rear again" and then really loud says "who's kicking me back there? somebody's kicking me in THE BUTTOCKS" and one of the little kids giggled and the mom told her to keep her feet where they belonged and hector started saying he was hungry and the mom refused to cook for him when they got home because she was tired and going to bed and that's what happens when you're married and have kids and he asked me if i was cooking when i got home and i said "probably not, i'm going to bed" and the cabbie said "that's why i'm not getting married til i'm 46 and bald!" and i said "better get a girlfriend before that or you're gonna have a hell of a time" and then we finally arrived at their house, which is red and has a blue-hooded benevelont mary statue in the front and they all got out and hector paid the cabbie through my window and then put his hand on my arm and said "you sure you're not cooking?" and i said "nope, but i'll give you a call if i change my mind" and he laughed and then the cabbie and i drove to cypress court and dropped me off.

and now i'm going to bed, and not cooking.
posted at 11:58 PM

or not. morrow called, needing help installing his new network card for his new laptop. i talked him through it for half an hour. eyes closed. complete success. why am i not doing this for a living?
posted at 12:45 AM

i was just looking this over and i have been a total sourpuss bore lately. like not even amusing. jeez.

i shall try to inject some humor into my life soon. but right now i'm going to bed.

sorry!
posted at 11:44 PM

fixed my bike seat (again) and turned the screw really tight so it wouldn't slip down again once my weight was on it and discovered that the reason it hadn't been so tight before is because when it is that tight my back brakes are clamped on my rear wheel like monica on a presidential macanudo. so i loosened it again and the seat slipped a bit and riding was mildly annoying but i pedaled through it.

picked up a couple of books at the library, toured the farmers market that takes over the block of concord st below the library every thursday afternoon. everything looked mouthwatering and organic, but i had only $1.50 and a small carrycase that can barely fit two books. next week, perhaps.

tonight and tomorrow there is a stage adaptation of none other than misery downtown! i really want to go, although it's $10, because i think it could be minorly hilarious. except that it's dark out when the play gets out, and all i have is my bike and i'm a little scared to be out by myself after dark, and i guess i could get a cab, but, eh. better safe than sorry. manchester is not the safest of places when the sun goes down, imho based on newspaper perusals.

y took me shopping last night and i stocked up on food. i also purchased a suction cup phone tap at ratshack. it sux0rs. but it is my only hope at the moment, since dialpad seems totally broken. i spent the last hour experimenting with it on my cell. it works best on top of the phone (less static, more recorded sound), but - and this is a big but(t) - i have to clamp it down with my fingers (like monica on a pres- oh nevermind) to make sure it picks up the conversation. there is nowhere on my little phone for the little suction cup to gain purchase. so, the good: this method seems to work. the bad: my hand has been twitching and convulsing for the last hour. oy, rsi. two reasons why this is very necessary: a) as mentioned, dialad has been really fucked lately and unreliable; b) i have an incoming call interview tomorrow that i can't reverse, and i think i'm going to have to conduct it in.. THE BUS STATION. (i'm going to boston to have chinatown dinner with po. bus is at 230p. interview is at 2p. oops.) wonder what the lady with the eight inch wooden crucifix will have to say about that.

so morrow called me today for computer advice and then dropped the h-bomb: metropolis, which i'm going to be writing tv for, is sharing dumbo offices with none other than modernhumorist! i nearly peed my pants with joy. i think i will move in. perhaps i'll even bring jill with me.

finally talked to aunt carol tonight, after ostensibly calling to wish cousin matt happy birthday. i am a bad niece for not calling earlier in the summer. really bad. and i feel really bad about it. i feel really bad about a lot of things tonight.

i want to go to boston and visit them and show her my magazines, show her the work i've done, let her see it and appreciate it and think that i'm doing something productive with my life. because somebody should think that. i want somebody to think that.

high holidays invite>*, especially after last year's debacle. i'm glad i brought dress clothes with me.

arthurdent says, "i wish i had a billion dollars to give to a foundation to start a completely nonprofit news organization"
jeremie [to arthurdent]: all the .com websites that did news are nonprofit.

posted at 10:54 PM

bye, y.

solitary unconfinement.
posted at 9:25 AM

it is early. i slept hardly at all since we returned the mattress i'd been using to its rightful owner yesterday and all i had was a measly thermarest and sleeping bag. y is leaving in a bit, for good. hopefully we can dine at andy's, and then i can go to sleep on y's (now my) mattress.

oh, it is early.
posted at 7:39 AM

check out the sweet-ass tshirt i got today while y was getting an oil change. it was $8. it is just the right size and just the right color and it has a k-r4d logo that will make me the envy of friends and strangers alike. next up: manchester monarchs in youth large.

moving right along on onmag stuff. productivity can reach unparalleled heights when you don't sit around all day.

you can love your pets, but you shouldn't LOVE your pets.

<maiton> did you hear what happend to me last night?
<DaleJR> what happened?
<maiton> http://omnicon.net/~qc/fbi.jpg
<maiton> i got owned
<maiton> at 10:30PM
<maiton> they were contacting me on information
<maiton> regarding some packet kiddies
<DaleJR> "i dont know anything"
<maiton> lol
<maiton> na
<maiton> they were cool
<maiton> the FBI was mad nice to me son
<mant-is> holy fuck
<mant-is> if FBI came to my house
<mant-is> id shit.
<DaleJR> why didnt you tell them
<DaleJR> to come back
<DaleJR> at an earlier hour
<maiton> because
<maiton> thye tried
<maiton> i thought they were jahova witnesses
<maiton> so i didn't answer the door

posted at 2:20 PM

finally talked to primedia hr after calling literally fifteen times. the hr chick talks really fast and i had to ask her to repeat the name of the "opportunity" she had to tell me about literally fifteen times and while it had some components that i'd be great for it turned out to be.. soapoperadigest.com. also she asked if i'd be interested in a managing online editor position. also she asked what salary level i was at. also she had no idea about the seventeen.com job and now i have to call her back tomorrow (like i'll ever get through). but if calling repeatedly saves me sending a cover letter - she basically just offered me an interview for soapoperadigest.com, weird - i'm all for it.

and now i'm going to bed.

<ralome> Marisa is hot.
<ralome> You shoudl tag that shit.
<holeshot> maybe
<holeshot> if she was drunk
<holeshot> she'd be hotter
<ralome> haha
<ralome> that's true.
<holeshot> she's gettin a nice dumpy ass
<ralome> all slutty
<ralome> haha
<ralome> You need to cultivate her an eating disorder.

"wandering this house like i've never wanted out
and this is about as social as i get now
and i'm throwing away the letters that i am writing you
'cause they would never do
i would never do
never"
posted at 10:00 PM

it's times like this that i wish i could write for ew with some degree of regularity. this must not go uncommented upon. it is as genius as isdickcheneydeadyet?. (in fact, that sounds like a box to me: blogs that keep a satirical eye on pop culture/current events. hmmmmmm.)

snuck into ap2 tonight. mmm. sneaking in.

on the way home we stopped at CREMELAND. i hadn't really had dinner, so i skipped ice cream in favor of a clam roll. except i forgot that i don't really like fried clams or tartar sauce, and didn't remember until i only had a few bites left, and then i nearly had to vom. i think i just like the notion of a clam roll. it's romantic, in a stop-at-the-side-of-the-road sort of way.

ps as much as i hate snl the conan ep was so good, even the smigel short was good, and conan took his shirt off - twice! yowza.

the MOLECULAR MAN!

the underwhelmed campgod [to oppsie]: will shortz is the editor of the nyt crossword, i thought.

posted at 12:27 AM

my stupidity is stunning. fucking stunning. so a job just got posted for seventeen.com that is basically my entire skill set. and now the whole world knows about it. and last week i got a call in nyc from primedia hr that CHICKENFRIED alerted me to, and i left a couple messages but didn't try too hard to get in touch with them.

primedia owns seventeen.

fuck.

(i'm getting up early to call them tomorrow.)

i have made a list of all the shit i have to do, and i'm going to do it, goddammit.
posted at 6:29 PM

i wake up sweating and sure.

the weather has finally turned back from the heat wave, so here is what i resolve to do today: eat a turkey sandwich; watch a sopranos while digesting; throw on some clothes and ride my bike downtown and back for exercise (right leg still a little tight from all the walking this weekend - good); shower; figure out all my deadlines, make a list, do some real work.

oppsie1: oh fear. http://www.testamints.com/home/
P J Debruge: They sell these all over Texas.
oppsie1: i'd never heard of them. scary.
oppsie1: it's a good thing you got out of there.
P J Debruge: Not nearly so scary as running across them next to the WWJD bracelets at your local checkout counter.
oppsie1: oh lord.
oppsie1: (no pun intended.)

posted at 12:35 PM

i just hallucinated a spider. twice. i don't know what is going on in my head but i keep thinking i see spiders on the table here and the other night i thought i saw a rat out of the corner of my eye, a big new york city rat, and last night i dreamt that my grandmother drowned and it was my fault because i didn't jump in to save her soon enough.

the welcome sign for new hampshire when you cross the mass border on i93 says "bienvenue!" but there might not be an exclamation.

at the bus station yesterday there was a woman wearing an eight inch wooden crucifix with a fake bronze-coated jesus nailed to it around her neck. and at dinner tonight at the diner toothless marvin turned out not to be homeless and crazy but an avid tv watcher with a roommate. he likes maury povich. and tom something-or-other on abc. and the bermuda triangle movie on cable.

space is older.

"don't let people walk over you
because that's just what they'll do"
posted at 9:41 PM

back from beantown, feeling ill. sickened. ate too much today, coupled with mental stress, whatever. hmm. boston was fun. sheri and jeremie and scott and ken met me at the kendall/mit t stop after i hopped the subway from south station where the bus let me off. ate at a mediocre brewpub, then checked in at the hotel and kate showed up and we walked to the public garden and watched the swan boats a while. a lot of them seemed to be listing, inches away from going over completely. scary. after that we walked to boston common and followed the freedom trail across the city to the north end, where we wanted to get dinner. i drank a lemonade and a coke and was bloated and ill and not hungry for the rest of the night, which worked out since the place we put our name in at made us wait an hour and a half for a table and it still looked like it was going to be another hour so we gave up and ate at some crappy fast italian food joint. we did, however, hit mike's pastry, whose cannoli are second only to isgro's, my favorite in philly. mmm, ricotta. mmm, marscapone. mmm.

we met up with a couple of ken's friends after that and tried in vain to find a bar, but the bars all sucked and wanted cover so we ended up heading back to the hotel. hotel bed highly comfortable, jeremie's snoring less so, but the conan o'brien snl was on and it was very funny and then i stumbled across none other than vivian guzman from moral court on a howard stern rerun and that totally made my night complete. passed out a few hours later, before dawn at least. my own damn fault for forgetting earplugs. dumb.

dim sum this morning. mmm dim sum. i miss chinatown like no other.

and now i'm back.

boston troubles me. but seeing people is good. knowing that i can get myself to and from and around places all alone is good.

i have a lot of nasty things to say, but i'm not going to say any of them. mostly because i'm not sure why i do. i just do.

<nar_> American Double Amputee Plans to Climb Everest
<nar_> KATHMANDU, Nepal (Reuters) - An American mountaineer who lost both his lower legs in a flying accident is attempting to become the first double amputee to climb Mount Everest.
<nar_> That's almost as bad as it gets
<nar_> Who gives a shit who climbs everest now
<nar_> If a double amputee can do it
<nar_> I coudl do it blindfolded
<nar_> so it must not be that tough.
<route> i heard a baby did it once
<route> i think it was one of those super babies, from brazil.

posted at 8:01 PM

this is lovely. i'm leaving in five minutes for the bus to boston and my minidisc player has decided not to recognize any media. arg. y is gone for the weekend with parentals so i have to get myself to the bus station. it's a mile and a half away, pretty much a straight shot down massabesic and then lake. i think i'm going to walk it.

okay, minidisc is working after i took out the battery and put it back. i rule, but only in the wake of disaster. and only sometimes.
posted at 11:09 AM

yeah, so, pissed another day away. thought about what's wrong with ytwt, identified some of it in general terms: where it went, and where i wanted it to go, and how those seem to be two lines that at one point intersected but now threaten never to converge again. but progress? not really.

on the plus side, after a nasty bsod that my laptop took a few reboots to recover from, my missing space appears to be back. i have no idea where it went or what happened, but it's back. guess i shouldn't have deleted marshall mathers lp after all.

and all my mosquito bites are still offensively itchy.

shitballs.

shit.

<bossh0g> ok, i love porno spam e-mail... "underage sluts suck cock to earn pocket money afterschool"
<deathinc> if only that were true
<swank> it is true deathinc
<swank> i take it you dont come to sacramento much.
<bossh0g> is that where all the underage whores are swank?
<swank> yeah dood
<swank> i know im dating one.
<swank> im all about underaged girls
<bossh0g> you are a bad man
<bossh0g> how young do u date dude?
<swank> old enough to pee old enough for me.

"space is colder
than the air in the mountains
where i come from
the air in the mountains
where i come from"
posted at 11:21 PM

did a virus scan with mcafee, came up with nothing. i thought maybe (unlikely, very, but maybe) i had a virus that was causing the space issue. nope. nada. which is good. virii are bad.

clam chowder and peach/blueberry/strawberry cobbler at andy's. clam chowder was great; cobbler was too much. what i really, really, really want is a bacon cheeseburger at the diner. maybe i'll go there tomorrow before i catch the bus to boston.

semi-bad: agreed to do nba trivia again for the next issue. not-at-all-semi-bad-and-in-fact-good: get to do 200 words on brendan haywood!

hmm. i feel very allergy-y today.

JamesMorrow123: is mrscott down???????
oppsie1: i think so.
oppsie1: he must be upgrading or something.
oppsie1: i noticed it about 15 minutes ago.
JamesMorrow123: i'm getting an error 69: webmaster has cock in his mouth and can't reach keyboard

posted at 4:16 PM

there are four toothbrushes in the bathroom, only one of which is mine, and two people living here. hmm.

finally talked to noah. holding the story for another few weeks to see how bb2 plays out. blah. a phone call would have been nice instead of me having to chase him down.

i was about to be upset at getting spam, but then i read it.

From: Tan Long
Subject: Flying Shoes
Date: 2001-8-10

DEAR SIR / MADAM :

HOW DO YOU DO !

WE CAN SUPPLY HIGH QUALITY FLYING SHOES, SUCH FLYING SHOES LET YOU BOTH CAN WALK NORMALLY, AND CAN SLIDE AS FLYING. IT IS A SORT OF FASHIONABLE PRODUCT.

THE FOB PRICE IS USD 7.70 PER PAIR, WELCOME ORDER !

PLEASE LOOK THE DETAILS WITH PHOTOS FROM : http://www.chunpai.com/flyingshoe.htm

ALSO WE HAVE WOOD SHOES, BAMOO MATS, WOOD FLOORING, ALUMINU PLASTIC DECORATE PANELS, ETC, LOOK THEM FROM : http://www.chunpai.com/first-english.htm

BEST REGARDS !

MR.TAN LONG ( SATRAP )
GUILIN LINGUI SHENGPING XIAOXUE BAMBOO & WOOD MANUFACTORY
ADDRESS: No.229 RONGSHAN ROAD,LINGUI,GUILIN,GUANG,CHINA
TEL / FAX: +86-773-5592687
E-MAIL: chunpai@public.glptt.gx.cn
WEB SITE: http://www.chunpai.com/first-english.htm

posted at 1:41 PM

it turns out that at the pool party last night a mosquito went to town on my knee. seven bites and counting (and scratching).

this is the article i've always wanted to write, except for all the crazy slang in the house, y0, plus it would have a) more motown and b) less outkast. so apparently my mopete article has hit newsstands, but i have no idea where to find inside stuff around here. it's an elusive mofo, truly - i have trouble finding it in nyc, too. i have to get anna to put me on the comp list or something. #35 demands it.

CREMELAND. reese's peanut butter cup ice cream - whole cups, pb ice cream base (not vanilla). good, but in the end, too much. water water everywhere.

y keeps missing her cell phone calls so she turned the volume all the way up, and now i think i have hearing damage. perhaps noah needs his cell phone turned up since he has yet to respond to my phone calls or email. i have no idea what's going on and i'm developing another ulcer.

i successfully remembered to call cousin josh today. he turned seven. he's getting old. he was going to see cats and dogs so we only talked for about a minute. he told me that some people told him it was a bad movie but they didn't like it because they were too old, so i told him it's a good thing he just turned seven because six is too young to enjoy it. (i did not successfully remember to put his birthday card in the mail; i'll do it tomorrow. hopefully.)

my hard drive appears to be misreporting free space. i'm ready to maim somebody.

i sweat the small stuff.

and the large stuff, too.

and also the medium-sized stuff.

and sometimes the inside stuff.
posted at 10:43 PM

i am in the mood for buffalo tom/big red letter day, but it's in new york. i am contenting myself with beulah instead. and a shower.

hate making phone calls. HATE MAKING PHONE CALLS.

love doing laundry. LOVE DOING LAUNDRY.

what does wells taylor want?

"your hurt drizzles forth twice nightly
and i once held on to you so tightly
you were made of wood
and cried 'cause no one understood
but i had splinters in my fingers"
posted at 3:29 PM

hangovers suck.

drunk trampolining does not suck.

but hangovers suck.
posted at 11:43 AM

the earplugs didn't help. the noise seeps through even when i can no longer hear art bell but muffled, and it is circular and it pushes at me like a punch in the stomach every 3.5 seconds.

passed out. woke up a long time ago.
posted at 11:04 AM

how did it get this late? balls.

the fly that has been buzzing around the apartment for three days decided to commit hara kiri right in front of me, flying past my nose and plunging to death on my pizza plate. par for the course. but maybe i've reached the turning point, because i have earplugs since y finally remember to bring them home and the shower drain has been cleared by the chemical wonder that is drano max and tomorrow i won't have to shower in standing water, which i cannot stand.

so, maybe.

best. barbecue sauce. ever.

people get in a similar situation and they think you can help each other and that is just so, like, laughable. but you don't tell them that, because if you don't maybe they can help themselves.

just light on negatives.
posted at 1:49 AM

i am so fucking irate i am chewing through my teeth with my teeth.

gah.

gah.

grr.

IRATE.

i would like the hate to stop bubbling up, thank you very much, and i would like to stop getting so irritated so easily, thank you very much, and are there drugs for this, thank you very much?, and is it going to be difficult for me to acquire them, thank you very much?, and it would be nice if it was not difficult, thank you very much, and if you know of such acquisitional possibilities please email me and i will tell you where to snail them to, thank you very much.

my hate is bicoastal, continental, transatlantic, and i am chewing through my teeth.

with my teeth.

through my teeth.

"and i love you and i want to shoot all the superheroes from your sky
watch them bleeding from your ceiling as their empty anger falls out from their eyes"
posted at 11:26 PM

blah blah blah fuck off.

yeah, you.

me?

yeah. you.

haha!

anyway. i should be doing something productive, so i'm going to go get a code red so i can stop falling asleep on the keyboard and then sit in the corner and think for a while instead of staring at espn.com thinking about how wonderful vince carter is. a masters degree, good fucking lord.

"the trouble with the straight and the narrow
is it's something that keeps sliding off to the side"
posted at 4:13 PM

my new trick is foolishly saying to myself, self, why don't you see if you still have that mad skill that allows you to wake yourself up whenever you want just by thinking about it before you go to sleep? so i've been waking up at 4a and then 5a for the past couple days. and the noise is still there.

did the necessary icky ew emails. nobody has responded. sigh.

excellent bowl of corn chowder at andy's. the house directly across the street/next door to andy's is having a yard sale, which consists solely of clothing laid out on the lawn. there is a limited window to browsing, though, because when i went into andy's the stuff was all over the grass and when i came back out it was gone. it's ass hot out again today, which probably has something to do with it.

last night some foreign guy in chicago called up art bell and was talking about how he had seen his dad die when he was 8 and it made him believe in ufos or some shit like that and then midway through after art had asked him to repeat shit like five times he goes "wait, is this the art bell??" and art is like "yeeeeees" and the guy was overcome with joy.

the next call was about cow mutiliation in montana.
posted at 3:34 PM

ps y assaulted me with a gatorade bottle to the head and then claimed it was a beachball. i am skeptical. also she did a pole dance while singing a song about bananas. relief and rescue efforts welcome.

zxjkw: I must find out what PAsex is like. I NEED YOUR HELP.
zxjkw: a great service for your country.
zxjkw: etc etc
oppsie1: hmm.
zxjkw: if nothing else, it promises to be Really Good.
zxjkw: i have a sneaking suspicion i'm not going to get any. it snuck up and tapped me on the shoulder and gave me a note, in fact.
oppsie1: oh wait, you were propositioning me? *facepalm*
zxjkw: what do we do every night, brain?
zxjkw: WE PROPOSITION ERIN FOR SEX
zxjkw: YOUR DRESS WOULD LOOK REALLY GOOD ON MY NIGHTSTAND
zxjkw: WAIT, I FUCKED THAT UP
zxjkw: YOUR NIGHTSTAND WOULD LOOK REALLY GOOD CRUMPLED UP ON MY BED.
zxjkw: FUCK

posted at 12:54 AM

amazingly, accomplished all tasks set out before me today, plus a bonus pitch for ew that appears to be being studiously ignored. sigh. but! biked downtown on y's bike. the ride downtown is downhill, so i didn't get too horribly hot even though it was a scorcher today. y's bike is at least a foot too tall for me, although i adjusted the seat low enough so that i can pedal properly. it's just dis/mounting that's a problem. but i like riding her bike, sitting taller, far above, relatively, my usual position in the height distribution of the world. it's something that feels different, and good. the ride back was a sweat-inducing fight to the finish. no more toxins in this body. nope.

bob shaw's had a lobster roll special, $6 for a lobster roll and a cup of chowder. it was bliss. i sat and read back issues of the hippopress that i had missed while i was out of town. there was a really excellent cover story on ice cream that i thought was a great read. i think i'll email the author and tell him so. the lunch deal was actually just supposed to be seafood chowder, but i'd had it a few weeks ago and didn't love it so i asked if i could sub corn chowder and bob shaw didn't seem like he was going to go for it and then he said okay and heated it up for me. bob shaw is this old guy who used to be the mayor of manchester and now he runs this maine sandwich shop and publishes crotchety ads-cum-letters in the hippopress about the sorry state of manchester city government and how the aldermen all suck.

paid a 30 cent late fee at the library, took out ender's game since i know i should have read it by now, hung out there for a while finishing the power and the glory. there was an icky homeless guy there who really needed a belt or suspenders and his pants kept falling down and revealing his tighty dirty-whities and he was all upset because the sunday sports section of the paper was missing.

i have to email like fifty people at ew tomorrow, and i so don't want to. avoidance is such a bad character trait of mine.

oppsie1: http://www.hippopress.com/stuff/071901_icecream.html
JamesMorrow123: oh brilliant
JamesMorrow123: i love the conversatoin/tantrum rating
oppsie1: yes, i though that was inspired
JamesMorrow123: i'm going to sue "goldenrod" for infringing on my cock's trademark.

posted at 12:12 AM

this inability to sleep is getting out of hand. i feel like the noise coming through my pillow is getting louder. it's like a freight train in my ear, except i like trains, and i do not like this noise. i am getting earplugs today come hell or high water.

in one dream josh and amy and andrew were going to some old lady's cottage but didn't have directions and we got lost in the woods. they thought i knew how to get there but i didn't. in the other, we had some sort of screening in my old den of a cartoon mr fabulous had made and his dad was watching it with me and a couple of other people and then we watched something i had done and some guy from the filim dept who doesn't really exist gave me a check for $2000. and i read the newspaper and in it there was an announcement that dad and shelly were getting married and i was a little bitter that that was how i had to find out, but other than that it was fine. and i couldn't find the right shoes, and there was going to be an award ceremony for the screenplays and i was deathly afraid i wouldn't win, especially without the right shoes.

a lot of impossibility in the subconscious of late, i guess.

finally edited/uploaded the pictures of the apt building door, which in going through the archives i realize i never mentioned in the first place. but there was some very interesting drama on the door a few weeks ago.

today: bank, library, clam chowder at bob shaw's, work on onmag.
posted at 10:53 AM

i did ten pushups and finished reading the new yorker. my arms are singing, still sore and shaky from dragging the bike yesterday. plus i have a neat bruise emerging along the right side of my pelvic bone where it sleeps just beneath the skin, where torso becomes hip becomes leg. the bike kept bumping me there. i carried it all the way with one wheel off the ground, but after filling up the tire i gave up and just rolled it home, even though by the time i was fifty feet away from the station, it was flat again. i need to exercise more.

my pedicure matches my tevas.

"the indecencies of city streets the cleaners sweep in trucks from nine to noon
and the factories make clouds to keep the sun from being jealous like the moon
while a husband holds his house he hates his children for being green when he is gray
and his wife she likes to talk on telephones but just to people far away"
posted at 2:11 PM

woke up earlyish, around 9a. i heard a voice talking, right in my ear, and i thought y and esther had returned from the great wild, and i got unrelentingly nervous that they would be upset that i hadn't washed the dishes yet, and even though i then realized the voice was coming from downstairs and across the street in the breakfast line outside of andy's i could not relax and i got up and did the dishes. then i went and waited in the andy's line and these two asshole guys cut right in front of me and sat at the counter because there were two seats open there and only one of me and i didn't take it because i thought the couple in front of me was going to grab them but they didn't and those two guys stole my seat and i stewed for a little while until a booth opened up and i didn't think they'd let me sit there but they did. a whole booth just for me while a party of four glared at me and my coverless issue of the new yorker (it arrived in the mail in a postal plastic bag, in pieces). it was much more comfortable than sitting on a counter stool. so it worked out, especially since my breakfast was outstanding (two eggs over medium, delicious home fries, buttered white toast with jelly, coffee, and sausage - plus! a basket of sweet muffins and breadcakes before the food arrived, gratis. i am love with andy's breakfasts now) all for the low low price of $4.86 plus tip. although i still feel sort of like puking. i ate too much. it was too tasty not to.

thanks to the brilliance that is keef, i have the new album leaf/bright eyes collab, hungry for a holiday, and it is making my stomach hurt in that good way. now i want to get the sampler it's from, especially since kind of like spitting is also on it. i can get it for a buck from slowdance, or free if i order something from better looking, which i'd almost like to do if only i knew what cd to get from there. suggestions welcome. (except the good life; i don't know, i'm just not such a huge tim kasher fan. i've honestly tried, at least.)

i am carpetbombing darby with bright eyes, because he is a perfect unwitting victim. darby and i should be friends, i have decided.

and conor has a narcotic effect on me. i did not decide that, though. it's not a choice. sometimes i think if i got a shrink it would be best if i could just bring in a cd and play it and that would explain everything much better than i could. reliance on other people's words and not my own, because i don't really have any worth sharing anyway.

i feel like doing pushups. or maybe screaming out the window. or closing my eyes and looking at the magnolia smile for a while.

"and i met a man, a mannequin, he stood so still i know he was afraid
and he preferred a place of permanence to the awful guessing game of choice and change"
posted at 1:04 PM

ps keef informs me that i stole a joke in ytwt from the breakfast club, which when translated to english means I SUCK.
posted at 10:17 PM

man, ytwt is such a colossal turdball that it would dwarf the feces of even shaquille o'neal. even hot plate williams. i just reread it and cleaned up a few small messes and added a shitty backstory scene that i didn't really want to put in but i liked what led up to it and then it felt like maybe it needed to be resolved and holy crap it is just a bad, bad 107 pages.

roxaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanne.

feelings i can't fight.

i have to fix this shit. this has gone on far too long.

i watched the sopranos pilot this afternoon and it was so easy for tony to get that blatantly obvious bottle of prozac that i became very jealous. that fat fuck.

fiction.
posted at 8:59 PM

three things seen today in the two blocks between apt and gas station: license plate GELICA on a celica; license plate GSAS1 on a continental; 10 year old boy with earring on bike riding along with me as i dragged my mtb to the gas station to fill up the tire. my tube is totally blown, it turns out - tire wouldn't even hold air for two minutes after being filled up. i cannot figure this out. it was fine when i left for detroit, flat when i returned - could things really have ruptured when it was moved 15 feet from door to window? seems strange. bah. i'll take it to the shop monday, hopefully.

got clam chowder and half a turkey sandwich at billy's sports bar down the street, along with a pint of bass. mmm bass. this was after i tried getting brunch at andy's and it was fucking closed at 1p. grr. hate.

i'm very aggravated today, and i'm not really sure why. crisis this morning with buddy icons that shouldn't have been a crisis, not even close, but i got all upset and pissed and irrational and grr.

grr.

(josie didn't pan out, piece of shit computer. grr.)

grr.

while i was falling asleep last night i listened to michael savage's talk radio program, because it's on the same station as art bell and it wasn't yet time for art bell. savage is a scary nutball and he read personals from a "local liberal newspaper" that he refused to name, remarking on such disgustingness as couples over fifty "getting it on" and calling normal-sounding women who wanted tennis partners drug-addled hooers. he also refused to read the "perverted" ads involving same sex stuff. he also informed us that he'd just had his psa and his prostate was healthy. it was amusing, especially since he's not really a fan of gwb. talk radio entertains me so when i am going to bed.

are you a conservative cutie? if so, michael savage wants you! unfortunately, he is not cool enough to have a webcast like art bell.

(too fucking funny. too fucking fucking funny.)

(and now i'll probably get a bunch of hits on this page from people search for "cutie fucking".)

(too fucking funny.)

"shut out what they say 'cause your friends are fucked up anyway
and when they come around somehow they feel up and you feel down"
posted at 6:11 PM

done, done and done. got all my interviews, none of which gave me good quotes, wrote the damn thing, it is a piece of ass, sent it in. i'm a little worried it's going to get spiked again, because i had npoo check the run sheet and i'm not on it for the next couple of issues. hmm. but on a related note, apparently wook is going to be replacing cable, which isn't bad news at all. hopefully it will turn good. (also good: onmag editor wrote to tell me i'm getting the top-of-the-page name placement i requested for the e-people page. woo! and i got a paycheck from inside stuff. woo! and i'm still in my pajamas. not woo!)

tonight i am going to watch josie and the pussycats. i feel this is a good plan.
posted at 7:49 PM

ugh ugh UGH.
posted at 9:22 AM

one code red and five bathroom trips later, i've written a good 60% of the story and discovered that this just might turn out pretty good, if i can nail down my interviews tomorrow. like i won't even have to do the same old boring site roundup, because the entire thing is about webcast subscriptions. (i hope not too many other people have written this for other pubs. that would make me sad.) too bad i didn't get started on this three days ago. but i think i've done all i can for tonight. i have to get up early to call nielsen/netratings. hopefully i can sleep despite the sugar sludge in my blood, because there's no way i'm gobbling 'dryl again tonight after this morning's fog warning.

PROCRASTINATION IS DUMB. DO NOT FOLLOW MY EXAMPLE.

so now then.
posted at 2:43 AM

my friend tiR is a motherfucking bona fide genius. CIO mrscott, indeed.

progress: transcribed real.com guy interview; discovered that i had already written this story in february and then it got spiked, so i can scavenge from there.

code red. mmm. ugh.
posted at 12:27 AM

mmm. cremeland. chocolate cheesecake in a cake cone, and another (!) demonstration of manchester's finest. a quartet of trash getting banana splits. two members of the group were negligible. and then there's the other two: a woman with crazy eyes and a face that had been beaten too many times, and one of those shirts that is just a front and a little back held together by a bit of string. hers had fringes. it was like something out of a jordache commercial for the mentally ill. her mate (i think..) walked up to the window late, while the other three were waiting, and at first i was unimpressed. then he lifted up his tshirt and revealed a medicine-ball sized beer belly. it looked like he was packing full-term quadruplets, or maybe just a gutful of gasoline with which he was going to refuel his pinto later in the evening. it was v-i-l-e. also, the girl who took my ice cream order had a black eye, leading me to wonder if she was the diner waitress' daughter. hmm.

we also ran into y's coworkers missy and jodie. jodie is buddies with the management at the bowling alley! she is going to tell them to hire me. gorgeous.

so, interview at 1230p with somebody from mtv.com. no love from cbs - punks. story due sometime tomorrow (after 1230p, heh). can i do this? i can do this.

maybe.

y and her friend esther, who flew in today from michigan, are going camping tomorrow. freeeeeeeeeeeeedom. (just kidding, y. even though i know you're talking about me in the other room and what an evil bitch i am. which i am.) after i finish the story, i will work on pumping up my bike tire with y's minipump, at least enough to i can roll it to the bike shop. right now it can't even roll two feet. sigh.

so my boy brendan haywood had his draft rights traded again, to the bullets. this means a) he's now been through three teams in five weeks as a pro (though he's never officially entered the recordbooks by playing a professional minute) and b) he'll be stuck behind number 1 pick kwame brown, which makes me wonder if he'll really make his pro debut with the wiz or if he'll get traded yet again. they're pretty full at the center position, although i guess brown could be playing power forward. except that's laettner's position. hmm. either way, i think this means i'll try to pitch inside stuff on.. something. don't know what. (maybe they'll know.) truly, i just want an excuse to chill with jablowme some more. we can play us some playstation.

another code red shot is waiting for me in the fridge. i hope that's not what's fucking up my stomach.

tractor engines must be turned off when in the pit.
posted at 9:57 PM

i am playing phone tag on purpose with cbs since i can't tap on my cell phone (incoming calls) but can on dialpad (outgoing calls). i am so shady. and so tired, in need of another code red. foo.

chowhound made memepool today (thanks jeremie), which reminds me to link both of them. now everyone will know where i find all my super secret 3133+ k-r4d sitez.

at lunch today we overheard our dishwater blonde waitress, who looks mid-30s and is kind of beefy, telling her friends who had just come in to eat about some drama the night before. the information came in the following order: first, that she had bruises on her arms and left eyes, which, as i slid my eyes over to her, i noticed since she pointed them out. second, that they had resulted from her accusing her daughter of stealing a bracelet or something and her daughter started whaling on her. third, that she called the cops on an assault charge against her daughter and they looked for her for a while but said since they didn't find her after six hours they couldn't charge her and she was all annoyed because if it had been her husband/boyfriend/dad/male who had beat her up, they would still be looking for him. fourth, that her daughter called later and she told her not to come back and that she didn't want her in her house.

fifth, that her daughter is 14.

ah, manchester.

Twingo16: i am worried about west nile virus. i suddenly have six mosquito bites
oppsie1: aren't they spraying? you're as bad as katie banks.
oppsie1: actually, you're less bad because west nile is actually in nyc. katie banks is in detroit and overly paranoid.
Twingo16: i don't know. what are the symptoms?
oppsie1: itching
oppsie1: tiredness
oppsie1: being unemployed
oppsie1: and having no money
Twingo16: oh fuck
oppsie1: OH MY GOD JILL I THINK YOU'RE INFECTED

posted at 5:49 PM

this might be doable. the fog has cleared from my head, although i think i may need to go out to langley variety and get another code red. i did five minutes with a guy from real.com and he gave me some good soundbites, rendering quotes from cbs less important. if i can just get somebody from mtv to talk to me i'll be golden. golden goose.

hopefully not cooked golden goose. cooked is bad. (my hamburger at lunch at the diner, however, was still mooing. ick.)

oppsie1: i can easily see this album being on my top ten for 2001
oppsie1: it is good from front to back
Twingo16: though i am still fixated on gone. i love the way he says "si-in here"
oppsie1: gone is j's shining moment, for sure
oppsie1: i like when he starts screaming 'my best to be a ma-a-a-a-a-an'
Twingo16: it almost reminds me a bit of d'angelo
oppsie1: yes. d'angelo could totally do gone.
oppsie1: i feel like i read mj wanted it
Twingo16: i picture them in a video eating fried chicken, singing that song
oppsie1: nsync?
oppsie1: do i even want to know?
Twingo16: it just really reminded me of the south, so i thought it should take place at a barbecue. it is a tennessee kind of song
Twingo16: people at home do that leaving out the "t" thing b/c missouri is so bizarrely part midwest, part south
oppsie1: yeah.
oppsie1: but i'm sorry, that is basically the funniest thing you ever have said. fried chicken.
oppsie1: i'm just going to repaste it so you can understand how ridiculous it is.
oppsie1: Twingo16: i picture them in a video eating fried chicken, singing that song

posted at 3:24 PM

i think i have a benadryl hangover.

this is not good.

and i need earplugs again.

this is not good.
posted at 10:20 AM

888888888888888888888888 CODE RED 88888888888888888888888888888888

in honor of both the impending EARTHWORMS FROM OUTER SPACE attack and mrscott, i washed down my lunch leftovers with a code red mountain dew. i never drink normal mountain dew, but i decided i'd give it a shot since they didn't have red bull.

it was gross. but i finished it. 75g of sugar. mmm. sugar.

spent the afternoon calling cbs on and off with dialpad. they were none the wiser. i heart the internet.

this pic is so close to pr0n, it's just all the more amusing that it's on the cnn.com frontpage.

too much sugar, i think, i feel like wigging out and my annoyingness has shot up tenfold in the last 30 minutes. eek. mmm. sugar.

<jason|> Bloopers.2.XXX-Jill.Kelly
<jason|> haha
<jason|> i'm watching this now
<KRomeleoN> bloopers porn?
<KRomeleoN> whats that?
<jason|> bloopers
<jason|> from porn
<KRomeleoN> hah, like a dude busts in a girls eye?
<memo> does a girl choke on cum in that?
<log> that's not a blooper, that's a highlight.

posted at 8:01 PM

bring it, bitch.

i was all set to ride downtown and get some clam chowder and deposit my paychecks when, surprise!, my front tire is entirely, totally, irrevocably and untenably flat. suck suck suck. ended up at andy's across the street, chicken salad wrap and fries, $5.13, it was good and i brought half of it home to eat later. but still. suck suck suck.

is that the best you can do?
posted at 2:51 PM

and two hang-ups later..

(i didn't mean to.)
posted at 12:15 AM