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« July 2006 | Main | September 2006 »
Today, after work, I head to Memphis. Then tomorrow afternoon, Kathryn and I will start driving to Michigan. I still can’t decide if we should do a bonfire or bar Saturday night. But I’ll let you all know soon. Can’t wait to see all my friends and family, and the dogs, and the goats, and Joe’s, and everything else I miss.
I know what you're thinking, trick or treak? Isn't it too early to be talking about Halloween? The answer is yes. Even I know that and I love Halloween. It’s my favorite holiday. In my book, Halloween even beats out Christmas and Armistice Day. I love the parties, the foods, the smells, the chance to dress up and scare the crap out of small children… everything. That said, while I was in stinky Kroger today buying a Sobe Green Tea(the first Sobe drink I’ve ever bought), I noticed they already had Halloween decorations for sale. Who in their right mind needs something like sixty-eight days to prepare for Halloween? Who is thinking, “Oh no, there’s just under seventy days left before Halloween. I need to start putting up my fake cobwebs!”? It’s still August, it’s still summer. People should still be buying little shovels and cheap plastic buckets, not miniature witches and fake skulls. Just one more reason I don’t like the stinky Kroger.
I dragged Kathryn to the Batesville movie theater to see Snakes on a Plane this weekend. I thought it was awesome, she thought it wasn’t horrible. The one thing agreed on—the movie theater stunk. I said it smelled like cat piss, she thought it was mildew. I’m sure she’s right, after all, who would bring a cat to see Snakes on a Plan? Probably the same type of people who sat right in front of us with their six-year-old-ish and fourteen-year-old-ish daughters. What the hell? It’s Snakes on a Plane. The movie that had five extra days of shooting just to bump the rating up to R. Additional footage that included Samuel L. Jackson’s best line, “I’ve had it with these mother fucking snakes on this mother fucking plane,” and a Mile High scene ending with… well I don’t want to ruin it. Let’s just say I got a stern look from my date when I laughed.
Aside from the stench, the old-school, non-stadium style seating and the annoying bad parents who sat their big heads down right in front of us, the entire Snakes on a Plane experience was awesome. It was campy and predictable, but it knew that it was campy and predictable, which makes a big difference.
Who – Myself and Kathryn
What – Vacation
Where – Potterville, MI
When – Labor Day Weekend
Why – Because I Can
It’s official—I’m going to be coming home over Labor Day weekend. It’s going to be a bit of a whirlwind trip, but Saturday night is going to be the big night out with friends, so dust off your drinking boots. I haven’t decided on a bar yet. Can somebody tell me, will MSU back in session yet? If you’re on Facebook, I probably sent you an invitation… if you’re not, shoot me an email. It’s going to be a fast and furious gizzard eating, friend seeing, relative visiting, beer drinking, dog petting, goat feeding, fresh chicken egg eating, deck sitting, sleep depraved good time. Hope to see you all there.
Here I am. Here I am at work. Here I am at working listening to techno. Techno. Techno. Techno. Beep, click, beep, beep, click. Techno. Techno. Techno. Beep, click, beep, beep, click. Slap. Techno. Slap. Techno. Slap. Techno. Beep, click. Slap. Beep, beep. Slap. Click. Slap. Slap. Slapslapslapslapslap. Techno, techno. Woo, woo. Techno, techno. Woo, woo. Techno, techno. Woo, woo. Techno, techno. Woo, woo.
Congratulations to The Cup on his recent promotion. Perhaps he could tell us what exactly it was here, as I really don’t know. However, I do know it was something he’d been gunning for, for a little while… So, Congratulations Cup!
Does the name Joe Esposito mean anything to you? It didn’t to me either until last night when I got my hands on a copy of a certain Karate Kid song by the name of You’re The Best Around. After listening to it, oh, several dozen times, I came up with a guaranteed pick-me-up for when you’re feeling down and out. Grab a walkman, cd player, mp3 player or any other portable media device and slap in You’re The Best Around. Then just walk around and pretend Mr. Esposito is singing directly to you. I’m telling you it’s better than any song from Rocky(yes I said it), because I AM the best around and nothing is going to ever keep ME down. It even comes close to my own personal theme song, the Wackachicka. If I could somehow combine the two… look out ego, I AM THE BEST AROUND!
Fifty million points and a weeklong tribute to your undying and never-wavering awesomeness if you can give me a *good* mix-up of the two.
Last night I muttered to myself the phrase, "Oh great, now I have salad in my pants."
Points for anyone who can guess why I said that, or failing that, come up with a good fictional reason.
I don’t usually read any of the spam I receive, but this one caught my attention somehow. It’s written as though it’s just a little follow-up note to a previous conversation.
Hi!Last time we talked about the difference between Canadian and US medications. You told me that US meds are much better than other. I've decided to try out Canadian pharmacy. You know that i have some problems with anxiety so i used Valium and Xanax that I've bought at MyCanadianPharmacy drug store:use this link.
They have lower prices but their medications have such quality as US meds do. They also provide secure purchase. I'm completely satisfied and i think you'll be satisfied, too.Bridgett
Last time we talked? I’m fairly certain I’ve never had any conversations about the difference between US and Canadian medicines, and I don’t know any Bridgetts—anxiety ridden or otherwise. I wonder if Bridgett is sitting anxiously by her computer, compulsively checking her email to see if I’ve written back yet. I wonder if Bridgett is actually a fifty-year-old, bald man with festering sores on his lips… or just a tech savvy thirteen-year-old kid.
I hate Starbucks. I’d rather brew my own coffee using old cigarette butts as filters and water out of a rest stop toilet than give my money to Starbucks. It’s my last resort coffee shop, the one I go to when I just have to have a fix and there are absolutely no other options. I took my laptop to a Starbucks in Memphis this last weekend and when I tried to connect to the internet I learned they have a partnership with T-mobile, forcing you to pay for internet access. Why would anyone pay to get on the internet when there is another, independent coffee shop down the road that gives away internet access for free? The sad thing is that there are LL Bean wearing, trend-following, urbanites that sit in Starbucks and give their money to T-mobile so they can use the internet in what they believe to be the only chain of coffee shops on the face of the earth. I suppose I shouldn’t complain, it keeps them out of the ones I like to frequent—small, independent shops with a truly eclectic atmosphere, not the sterile, corporate façade that is the inside of every Starbucks. If Starbucks was a person, I would punch him in the face. I would say, “I hate you Starbucks.” Then I would kick him in the groin and steal his lunch money. Man, I hate Starbucks.
