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Friday, January 2nd, 2004
4:26 pm
Last night, after the Packers win, Lisa Guerrero began her post-game Favre interview with the statement (which I saw plagiarized by a Tribune writer today): "It's hard to play a game with a broken thumb, but it's even harder to play with a broken heart."

Except I ended the sentence "...but it's even harder to play with a broken dad."


Then I pictured a scenario where Favre throws a touchdown pass, runs to the endzone, lifts up the goalpost, retrieves a cell phone, and starts to call his father before realizing he's dead.

Or, after a game well-played, finishing the game on the sidelines while the second-string QB plays out the clock, Favre is doused by his teammates, not with Gatorade, but his father's ashes.


And then I slept the contented sleep of someone bound for hell, knowing full well that soon my uppance will come.



Hoping this link circumvents the need to login:
Season's Greetings, or the most heartwarmingest thing I've read since [beukema]'s Friendster testimonial (to which I shall respond in kind in due time, my preciousssss).

(7 grew a life | why dont you grow a life?)

Tuesday, December 23rd, 2003
6:17 pm
Happy Spiderhole-idays!
Best Christmas ever. Thanks Santa!

Re: The Big Story (Get Your War On Link)
Re: John Kerry’s Pottymouth (Get Your War On Link)


Sometimes, when I’m drunk, I can be belligerent or surly or just plain mean.
I am, however, invariably loud.
**********************************************************************

I miss not hating all of humanity. Ah, but such is the Christmas season.



I know I'm really back in Chicago when I disembark the airplane only to hear airline employees speaking in Polish.


Just like I know I'm really home when my father and I fail to acknowledge each other's existence.

Our only interaction thus far, on the topic of some questionable cheese---
Him: Why's it so soft?
Me: Brie's soft.
Him: Not that soft.

It's gonna be a long couple-a weeks.



Meanwhile, Peter Jackson makes my cry like the girl I am.
**********************************************************************

As far as I'm concerned, the correct pronunciation of "Mom" is "Mahm."


[dorner]: Anyone who would name their child (or would willingly go by the name) "Ziad Nimri" can automatically be eliminated from the category "normal people."

Also, incorrect grammar = invalid argument. And eternal damnation (if I had my way).

(why dont you grow a life?)

6:14 pm
Greeting of the day: "What's up, Snow White?"


The funniest part of The Wade Robson Project isn't how Wade circles around the dancers and invades their space, giving them instructions while they freestyle. And it isn't when some girl rips off her pants during her turn, insuring that the all-male judges will vote her into the next round. No, it's at the end of every episode, right before the credits, when Wade himself busts a few moves and you realize the man cannot dance. Seriously. Like an epileptic, he is.

[dorner]: Thanks for backing me up on this one. I guess he can choreograph well enough to be a multimillionaire without being able to perform any of his own moves.


And, yes, I haven't read my Bible much of late, but I'm pretty sure that copulating with your husband is condoned, even championed, by God (assuming there's no anal or oral contact involved), and could therefore not be considered "the sweetest sin."

Candidates for that title include:
-copulating with someone who is not your spouse in a vat of chocolate, or perhaps crème brûlée
-the careful plotting and then execution of (literally) the murder of your pedophile priest cellmate
-central air
-fed up with the whining, you smash the skull of your pretty dumb wife, leaving what little brains she has to spill on the ground


And the man in the hallway who's waiting outside the vascular lab says: "Help...help...oh my back...it hurts...help me...please...aw gee...scratch my left shoulder...oh jesus."


[skalland]: Damn you for beating me to the punch. Mine would've been something to the effect of "Rush Limbaugh isn't that good of a sports commentator. His success can be attributed to ESPN being very desirious that a fat white asshole do well on their Sunday pre-game show."


Ahmet Zappa: Son of Frank Zappa, musician of sorts, former host of MTV's webRIOT (if you even remember that game show), Star Search judge, Selma Blair's new fiancé, and just one of the ~680,000 people in my Friendster network.
**********************************************************************

[blankens]: I'm pretty sure Ray Lewis would stab Cuba Gooding Jr., as that is his m.o. Y'know, they drown retarded kittens and puppies soon after birth, and I suggest that Cuba Gooding Sr. should have done the same. For the greater good.


Lord help me, but I'm excited for Kill Bill. Quentin, you best not let me down.


Tonight, it's The Station Agent.
Next Wednesday, it's The Runaway Jury.
I have now lost all track of the movies I've seen for free this year.


Q: Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?
A: Because I'm strangling you, you turn-coat bitch.
**********************************************************************

The irrelevance of Schwarzenegger's perpetual mistreatment of women in his successful gubernatorial campaign should be viewed as a slap in the face of every American female. It is unfortunate, then, that that slap will instead be administered to their collective derriere.


[sherburn]: Though not attending a Catholic school, the pastor who came in to my sophomore-year health class to give the sex talk told us the exact same thing: that the miniscule apertures in condoms are bigger than the virus, which could allow the virus to pass through and infect you. What this line of thinking ignores (coughsciencecoughcough) is that the virus is found in the bodily fluids, and if you can prevent contact with bodily fluids (by, say, correct use of a condom), then you can prevent transmission of disease. It's no coincidence that at my small religious high school, where sex ed was being taught that simultaneously promoted abstinence and preached the ineffectiveness of condoms, out of the approximately 400 students, at least 2 girls were knocked up each year. Praise Jesus!


I tell my roommate that:
-homosexuality is a lifestyle, so he should just choose not to be gay.
-the Human Rights Campaign is a misnomer, as gays are not people, but abominations.
-lesbians are simply women who want to be men (with very sensible haircuts).
-I have no problem with HIV/AIDS because it's killing off the gays and the blacks.
-homosexuals should not be allowed to adopt because that just gives them free access to touch children inappropriately.
-these are not my opinions, but the Word of God.

I tell my Negro friend Larry that:
-there's a good chance that one of my ancestors used to own one of his ancestors.
-there's a good chance he has some white in him, because my people see nothing wrong with raping their property.
-he should be an excellent dancer, due to the black man's innate sense of rhythm.
-all issues of pigmentation aside, he's not truly black, since he's a Republican who knows how to use the conjugated form of "be."
**********************************************************************

If I must randomly (at the grocery store) run into a cute guy who sometimes flirts with me, though I recently learned he's with someone else (thank you Friendster; fuck you DanWoodster), the best possible way in which this can occur is while donning the red trenchcoat (for it is now finally trenchcoat season), fresh from the salon, hair sideswept and dramatical. Always, always, always, it's Rhett Miller's "Come Around." And the chronic overuse of parentheses. "If tar, or spirits, or sauna does not cure, then the patient will die." -Finnish Proverb **********************************************************************

Childhood Occupational Aspirations, in this particular order:
(1) librarian (just like mom)
(2) pre-Challenger astronaut
(3) teacher
(4) parapsychologist (during my Jim Dinnerville phase)
(5) orthodontist (mad loot, yo)
(6) toy store owner
(7) radio DJ
(8) zoologist


Oh we were tense for sure, but we was con-fah-deh-eh-eh-ent.
**********************************************************************

Costs of Health Care Administration: U.S. vs. Canada


Summary:
Proponents of a Canadian-style, single-payer health care system for the U.S. argue that excessive administrative costs represent a serious problem in multi-payer systems. In this analysis, Harvard researchers compared administrative costs in the U.S. and Canadian health care systems. In August 2003, these same authors co-authored a proposal for single-payer national health care insurance in the U.S. (JAMA 2003; 290:798).

Using a variety of sources, the researchers calculated the fiscal-year 1999 administrative costs of health care insurers, employers' health care benefit programs, hospitals, office practices, nursing homes, and home health care agencies in both countries. The estimated per capita cost of health care administration was US$1059 in the U.S. and US$307 in Canada. These costs accounted for 31% and 17% of health care spending in the U.S. and Canada, respectively. The average overhead cost for U.S. private insurers was 11.7%; in contrast, this figure was 3.6% for U.S. Medicare and 1.3% for Canadian provincial insurance plans.

Comment:
Although these researchers acknowledge limitations in their data, their analysis suggests strongly that a single-payer system would yield substantial savings in administrative costs. Elsewhere, the authors and others have argued that such savings essentially could fund health care for the uninsured segment of the U.S. population. In an accompanying editorial, an economist from the Brookings Institution contends that the authors have exaggerated the difference in administrative costs in the U.S. and Canada; he also questions whether these comparisons provide useful guidance to policy makers, given the differing political histories and institutions in the two countries.

-- Allan S. Brett, MD

Source:
Woolhandler S et al. Costs of health care administration in the United States and Canada. N Engl J Med 2003 Aug 21; 349:768-75.

Aaron HJ. The costs of health care administration in the United States and Canada -- Questionable answers to a questionable question. N Engl J Med 2003 Aug 21; 349:801-3.


[prices]: Wrong answer. While nothing's perfect, the introduction of a single-payer system would be a drastic improvement over the nation's current healthcare fiasco, what with costs spiraling out of control and all.




The message that came up after sending a ridiculous, conspiracy-laden anti-gay article to my roommate made me laugh out loud:

"The link was sent to Todd.
Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Audrey.

Link:
< http://www.cbn.com/CBNNews/News/031014a.asp >

Message:
Tell your people to stop trying to make everyone gay! It's a good thing we've got the government around to 'protect the sanctity of marriage.'

May the Lord Jesus richly bless you."


Todd's response: "AIDS will kill us off before we ever get the chance for equal rights. God wanted it that way."

I love this man. And he didn't even have to give me a diamond in a piazza to get me to say that.
**********************************************************************

Dear Cubs,

If you lose tonight, I will cut you. Or perhaps the more appropriate method of execution would be choking.

And Steve Bartman of Northbrook, IL, consider yourself already lynched. Way to go, asshole.

Love,
Audrey


[blankens]: I coulda gone to a screening of Radio on Monday night. And I woulda, if I didn't hate everything about that movie.


The highly anticipated follow-up article, in which we learn how exactly the dastardly homosexuals are going about misleading legions of god-fearing individuals to believe that their lifestyle isn't a sin.

[roberts1]: I like all the references to "ex-homosexuals."
On this topic, Todd says: "What, like he no longer craves cock?"
My answer: "Oh, I'm sure he does; he just prays about it a lot."


Costs of Health Care Administration: U.S. vs. Canada

[pender]: Damn straight. Having insurance tied to employment seems (to vastly understate the lunacy of it all) a bit silly when the economy's in the shitter.

[prices]: The rapidly increasing costs of healthcare is one of (if not THE) major issues at hand, and the creation of a single-payer system would have a huge immediate impact for the better. I do agree with you when you say that the American people will never accept the Canadian model of medicine. The most that can be hoped for is insurance coverage for everyone, and even that is pretty bloody unlikely. That's why I consider myself a "practical liberal," in that I know that all the reforms I would like to see in this country will never be carried out, so I just figure that someday I'll move to, say, Denmark, and raise my children in a country that has universal health care and good schools and stricter environmental legislation and gun control and no government-sanctioned homophobia.



Meanwhile, how is it possible that every time I'm in a room full of narcoleptics absolutely nothing happens? I know the medications improve symptoms but don't control them fully. So I want to see sporadic lapses into sleep, I want to observe rapidly moving eyeballs, I want to tell a joke and make 'em fall down, goddammit! I can read and read all about the symptomology, but I know I can't fully comprehend it until I witness it firsthand. So somebody better have some sort of fit. Entertain me, you sleepy motherfuckers.

Seeing even one person a day who's got no legs is still one too many. Oh homeless vets and diabetics, you do so get me down.
**********************************************************************
I finger myself most of all.



From Josh [Dorner]---

[hendrick] always gives us that rare coup de gras--the witty, yet informative plan which mixes a variety of stories, pop culture, and social consciousness. And hey, she and her friendly Christian brethren even unmask the homo agenda for all to see. What higher art is possible, dare I ask?
******************************************************************************

If you know what's good for you, Steven Bartman, you'll stay gone. Don't come back to the city to retrieve your things---having them shipped to you will be much safer. Because if you, or your children, or your children's children ever set foot in town again, blood will be shed (hint: it'll be of Bartman origin).


Movies I Coulda Seen This Week:
-Radio, on Monday
-Veronica Guerin, on Tuesday
-Runaway Jury, on Wednesday
-My Life without Me, on Wednesday
-Pieces of April, on Thursday
-Radio, again, but on Thursday

Movies I Did See:
-The Human Stain, on Wednesday, with post-screening director Q&A

Ultimate opinion of film: Mmmnah...though it did prevent me from firsthand heartbreak via Cubs.


Attention: Tony Pham has auditioned for The Amazing Race, Season 5. Pass it on.


[shebeck]: According to Entertainment Weekly, " 'Tszujing' is Queer-speak for primping," but I think that's an overly-complicated way to spell the term.

[dorner]: Thank you from the bottom of my plan-heart.

(why dont you grow a life?)

6:12 pm
thedecemberistsquasitheshinsmodestmousemaktubstephenmalkmusradioheadthenewpornographerswilcorem

People I Yelled at This Weekend:

(1) To the individuals “directing traffic” at the Radiohead venue this weekend, who probably weren’t to blame for our sitting in the parking lot for two fucking hours, but who were in close proximity to me and my blistering anger (plus, the four of them were tooling around in an ATV, DMX-style): “You guys SUCK!”

(2) To the idiots on their rice-burning crotch rockets, who felt the need to further advertise that they have small shriveled penises by revving their engines and squealing their tires at every goddamn light: “You guys are DICKS!”

(3) To Michael Stipe, after being forced to listen to some of R.E.M.’s new material and lame-ass stage banter: “Now PLAY A GOOD SONG!”


Like Margaret says, I just calls it like I sees it.

I did learn that if you yell “B.J.!” across a crowded exhibition hall, many heads will turn. Primarily because they think someone is offering free fellatio.

**************************************************************************


Shake it like a Polaroid picture.

Nighttime/Anytime
(It's Alright)


For some strange reason, the thought of all the suffering/dying children in the world makes me cry. Go figure.

And since nothing else comes to mind right now, check out this moving piece from the latest Nation. Afterwards, if you can handle more of the same, go here.
**********************************************************************

Here's an interesting tidbit: The guy who wrote and directed Jeepers Creepers and Jeepers Creepers 2 (and Powder, for that matter) is a convicted child molester. In 1988, he plead guilty to five counts of sexual relations with a 12-year-old boy. Oh, but he didn't just go pedophiliac on this kid, he also VIDEOTAPED the incidents. And he's still allowed to work in Hollywood, perhaps even incorporating into his films some of the cinematography techniques he perfected while fucking a child.

Now I'm all about relativity (Einsteinian and otherwise), and overly-broad statements usually have exceptions, but I will say this: Any adult who touches a child in a sexual manner is one sick fuck.

[rosenbe1]: Without a doubt. The L.A. Weekly review said that the flick contains "an odd strain of juvenile homoeroticism that feels particularly unsavory in a movie made by a convicted pedophile." I've heard that there's a scene in the sequel where the monster kills some high school stud, removing his head as well as his shirt. And doing further research, it turns out that the victim was an actor in a couple of his early films who Salva coerced and forced to participate in oral sex. Now he makes films featuring a whole bunch of shirtless young bucks, who could easily serve as fodder for his prurient desires. Lovely.


Also: Britney Spears takes diet pills, specifically Zantrex 3.


A couple days ago, I saw a Porsche SUV. Truly, truly unnecessary.
**********************************************************************

[arnone01]: That article makes it sound like Zevon's cancer was caused by smoking, when, in fact, he had mesothelioma---which is only attributed to asbestos exposure. Once again, I cuts through the media bullshit with my graduate degree machete (100% free, thanks to the NIH and taxpayers like you).


(while my roommate is baking bread)
T: Mmm...the house is going to smell so good when this is done. I can smell it already.
A: Actually, that's my yeast infection.


New favorite inebriated activity: Writing glowing, gushing-with-love, breaking-out-the-dictionary-'cause-I-want-this-to-be-good Friendster testimonials. [mayj] & [higginso], you are the first two recipients of my drunken bounty.
**********************************************************************

[arnone01]: That article makes it sound like Zevon's cancer was caused by smoking, when, in fact, he had mesothelioma---which is only attributed to asbestos exposure. Once again, I cuts through the media bullshit with my graduate degree machete (100% free, thanks to the NIH and taxpayers like you).


(while my roommate is baking bread)
T: Mmm...the house is going to smell so good when this is done. I can smell it already.
A: Actually, that's my yeast infection.


New favorite inebriated activity: Writing glowing, gushing-with-love, breaking-out-the-dictionary-'cause-I-want-this-to-be-good Friendster testimonials. [mayj] & [higginso], you are the first two recipients of my drunken bounty. And [mayj], I meant every stinkin' word. I only regret catching the syphillis.


Today marks the two-year anniversary of my arrival in Seattle...years like days like hours like minutes.


Ohmydearlordandbabyjesus, if that episode of The Daily Show had been any funnier, any more spot-on, I'm pretty sure the TV would've exploded.
**********************************************************************

I am personally offended, indignant even, when I see an unattractive individual with my name. Today's unworthy-to-be-called-Audrey was a mousy plain girl about my age (+/- 2 yrs) who seems to be a friend of the bus passenger I refer to as "Catsitter" (her profession of choice). I had seen this girl talking to Catsitter before, but today she introduced herself to another one of Catsitter's busfriends and that's when I realized she had my name. Apparently, the sense of individuality that goes hand-in-hand with having a relatively uncommon name wasn't able to overcome her homeliness or utter lack of style. She was talking about how she had been "really social" last night when she met up with some friends, went to a bar, and had some food and a drink. This morning, she took a bath. Woo hoo. You better slow down there, quasi-Audrey, you're living much too fast.


Lost in Translation : really really quite good
Seeing it for free before it's in the theaters anywhere, including New York and L.A.: even better
Having a moment in a film that resonates with you completely, that seemingly speaks to you directly, which has never happened to this extent before (and which, as is my nature, produced a few tears): best of all...but not priceless, as it was free anyways

Also---
Number of men at last night's movie screening with whom I have gone on one, but only one, date: 2
(1) I don't even remember the name of this guy. Every so often, we're at the same place at the same time, but we don't even acknowledge each other.
(2) Maxwell, the short* motherfucker, that 1.5 hours into dinner and drinks---this is after he got buzzed before the meal and told me that he has issues with commitment---pulled the ol' "I'm really tired, so I'm gonna go home" bullshit when the sun was still up. Okay, granted, I had used the exact same line on another guy about a week earlier but that was at one in the morning. At the time, I didn't care too much (he was short, after all), but on the inside I was screaming, "Oh no you don't, Napoleon! I invented this particular remix!"

*When I say that a guy's "short," I don't mean that he's not 6'; I mean that he's about my size. In this case, he probably tells people he's 5'6", but he's really maybe 5'5". Maybe. And that's too short for me. Unless your name happens to be Seth Green.


(on the bus, post-film)
T: Y'know, Bruce told me that [local lesbian bar] has really good food.
A: Yeah, if you like pussy.
(both laugh, while man in front of us turns around to stare)
A: (now whispering) For some strange reason, everything they serve tastes kinda like fish.
T: Okay, so maybe we won't eat there.
**********************************************************************

[blankens]: Honestly, the most obvious of jokes didn't even cross my mind, but I'm glad that such tastelessness made you think of me. I choose to honor John Ritter's memory by engaging in a series of innuendo-laden misunderstandings. As for Johnny Cash...ah, what can one say that hasn't already been said a million times over? Here's where it's best to quote Snoop Dogg: "Johnny Cash [was] one bad motherfucker."




A day late, a dollar short, but reflect on this (care of the editors of The Nation ):

September 11, 2003

Anniversaries are historical page markers; they denote a time to pause and reflect. On the second anniversary of the September 11 attacks, we mark not only the terrible loss of life on that day but a failure of American leadership. It is also a time to raise the fundamental question that has supposedly focused the national effort for the past two years: Have we become safer, more secure, today?

Wherever we look the answer is no. The Bush Administration has squandered the good will that flowed from the rest of the world after the attacks. The Administration's go-it-alone, militarist foreign policy divided and weakened the United Nations and alienated longstanding allies. Now an isolated United States faces rising casualty lists and costs in Iraq and turns to the UN it once scorned for help--with an arrogance ill suited to winning friends.

The Iraq war, promoted by a White House disinformation campaign, diverted resources and undercut global antiterrorist strategies. Bungled postwar planning fueled anti-Americanism and unleashed chaos and disorder. These consequences were foreseen by antiwar critics, including this magazine, but the critics' warnings were swamped by the Administration's lies.

Poor postwar planning has also vitiated the antiterrorist effort in Afghanistan, where US troops are again battling Taliban forces. Reconstruction has gone slowly because donor nations, particularly the United States, have not come through, while lack of security in the countryside hampers aid efforts. Women are back in burqas; warlords misrule in the provinces.

In the Middle East, the neocon claim that defeating Saddam Hussein would enhance the prospects of an Israeli-Palestinian settlement by eliminating a powerful supporter of Palestinian militancy has proved illusory. The "road map" is in tatters. The Sharon government kills Hamas leaders and builds its divisive wall; Palestinian suicide bombers lash back with more blind carnage.

In the Far East, the threat of a conventional or even nuclear war has not diminished. Multilateral talks with North Korea have started, but influential hard-liners in the Administration continue to press for "regime change." China now says the United States is the "main obstacle" to a peaceful settlement with Pyongyang.

At home the Administration has failed to take sufficient measures to protect us. As David Corn writes on page 26, "crucial areas of homeland security--ports, chemical plants, emergency response, biodefense--are not getting adequate attention or funding." Meanwhile, the Administration builds a bigger national security state, suppressing civil liberties and bullying aliens and other politically weak groups. (A hopeful sign is that its policies have sparked growing opposition, even among conservatives.)

With the skyrocketing costs of the war, and his tax cuts for the wealthy, the President has placed the nation's fiscal security at risk and left the financially strapped states reeling. Since 2001, 2.7 million jobs have been lost, the average length of unemployment is at the highest point in two decades and real average weekly earnings have been steadily declining.

After jet planes guided by blind hatred smashed into the World Trade towers and the Pentagon, killing more than 3,000, most Americans placed their trust in our leaders. This Administration has betrayed that trust. It has misled the people for partisan ends and trampled on our liberties. The central issue in the 2004 presidential election is becoming clear. This Administration has become a great threat to American values. We must oust it and take back our democracy.
**********************************************************************

Things I Miss About Chicago:
-not having to see the same faces everywhere I go
-the expression "cooler by the lake"
-my mom's cooking
-hustle and/or bustle
-rudeness, or not being expected to smile at or say hi to strangers
-decreased visibility of homeless people, as they're relatively cloistered
-the skyline
-Potbelly's
-rabid sports fans
-good ol' Midwestern practicality
-my accent being the norm, rather than standing out
-the cart-pushing Mexican man who sells cut-up mangoes for a buck
-people who know how to jaywalk properly and drivers that know how to interact with jaywalkers




Things I Don't Miss About Chicago:
-the weather
-people trying to converse with me in Polish
-the overabundance of Grinnellians
-the shitstorm formally known as "my family"
-lack of mountains
-the minorities



Oh, and I just love it when a guy I've been interested in for the past couple months turns out to be a speed and/or coke fiend. That's just great.

Also: The Neptunes remix "Sympathy for the Devil"...why wasn't I informed earlier? Pharrell Williams, once again I love you (and not just because we hold a mike the same way).
**********************************************************************

The underside of the heavy granite-gray corporate-sponsored ashtray at the bar last night claimed the object was intellectual property of the Lucky Stripe company. Ok, so the slogan ("It's toasted") etched into the exterior can be considered intellectual property and certainly the Lucky Stripe insignia could be categorized thusly, but the entire fucking ashtray? I don't think so. Well, I got news for you Mr. and Mrs. Lucky Stripe, you may have the intellectual property rights to this ashtray, but I have the physical property rights, as it currently resides in my bedroom.

I want a "meet-cute."
**********************************************************************

The underside of the heavy granite-gray corporate-sponsored ashtray at the bar last night claimed the object was intellectual property of the Lucky Stripe company. Ok, so the slogan ("It's toasted") etched into the exterior can be considered intellectual property and certainly the Lucky Stripe insignia could be categorized thusly, but the entire fucking ashtray? I don't think so. Well, I got news for you Mr. and Mrs. Lucky Stripe: you may have the intellectual property rights to this ashtray, but I have the physical property rights, as it currently resides in my bedroom.

I want a "meet-cute."



The very definition of funny-sad: A pre-op transsexual who has major face stubble, but doesn’t realize her need to shave. Because she’s going blind.
**********************************************************************

The one thing I always forget about the Midwest---the only aspect that is completely erased from my memory until I sojourn there once more and come face-to-face with the harsh realities of modern Midwestern life---is the fatness of its people.

Personally, I blame the cheeseburger fries.


[roberts1]: As far as British Airways knows, I'm a Dame.
**********************************************************************

Tonight: The Stills/Interpol
Tomorrow: stellastarr*/The Raveonettes
Sunday: withdrawal from music only allayed by karaoke


The case of the Nigerian woman who was to be stoned seems easy enough to settle for once and for all. She said that the man who impregnated her promised to marry her, only to leave her high and dry (or lowly and preggers). The man in question denied having sexual relations with that woman, and since he had three male friends who would corroborate his story, the court took his word over hers. Seems like a run-of-the-mill DNA test would conclusively determine the paternity of this child. The solution is clear: Deploy Maury Povich.


[roberts1]: I was going to see Interpol last time around, but people bought tickets early and I was left in the cold. So this time, I made damn sure to procure a pair before they were sold out. I'm definitely excited for this show. And you're right, that guy soooo looks like creepy Crispin Glover. Perhaps it's his new-wave doppelganger.

[skalland]: I am not familiar with this "John" of which you speak. Same goes for "the Morning" with which he is affiliated. Alright, so I was at the KEXP website this afternoon and realized that he's a DJ there. As I streamline from that site fairly frequently, I probably have heard him, but I can't produce any concrete memories of anything related to him or his show.



The underside of my right wrist says that I'm a free loader, so it must be true.
**********************************************************************

People That Brushed Up Against Me This Weekend:
-both of the scrawny guys from Ratatat
-1/2 of The Stills
-1/2 of stellastarr* (including the unbelievably good-looking lead singer)
-all of The Raveonettes
and
-some limey Brit that burned my elbow with his cigarette (ultimately, a small price to pay)

The lesson: As always, it's location, location, location.

(why dont you grow a life?)

6:07 pm
Of course I chose dinner with a leftist politician over a large image of Colin Farrell moving at the rate of 24 frames per second.

But I wasn't too informed as to what I was getting into. What I had heard was that Judith had won some passes to a dinner at a nice restaurant that Representative Jim McDermott would be at, and since she wanted some young politically-aware people at this event, Ken and I had been recruited to fill that niche. But when I show up at the chichi restaurant, located literally *on* Lake Union, it turns out that Judith had won a $300 dinner with Jim McDermott. So it was me, Ken, Judith, Pat, and Jim. And three hundred bucks. On half-price bottle of wine night.

The conversation ran the gamut---the clandestineness of the current adminstration, the increasing threat to civil liberties and the different meanings of the word "security," the unexpected success of Howard Dean, the sexed-up allegations of WMD in Iraq, the threat posed by North Korea, the lip service given to children being our future (i.e., why Head Start should not be put in states' hands). After a bottle of champagne, we were referring to Dennis Kucinich as "Seabiscuit." I think this is when I told Rep. McDermott that I would drink any kind of wine he saw fit to order. So after the smoothest fucking chianti to ever pass my lips, we laughed (Jim cackled) at the viability (or lack thereof) of Jerry Springer ever running for a Senate seat.

The night was a complete success. I dined on salmon stuffed with brie, dungeness crab, and shrimp while watching the sailboats go by and the planes taking off and landing on the lake. On my best behavior, I didn't use a single expletive and/or racial slur. And I managed not to visibly bristle when Jim asked if I was a nurse. We consumed more desserts than there were people present. After-dessert drinks were ordered, but there was no way I could eat or drink anything else. I shan't have a meal like that again anytime soon.

So, once again, I'm living a far more extravagent life than should be possible for someone of my station. By all accounts.
*********************************************************************

When I was a kid, desperate to fit in with my peers, my father said I couldn't get my ears pierced because that was "something that niggers do."



Meanwhile, I can't wait to dress mod this fall.



[nisbett]: A cursory Google search indicates that the song in question is Third Eye Blind's "Motorcycle Driveby."



Best pick-up line I've had directed my way in a looooong time (as I'm standing at the bus stop):
"Baby, who is you waiting for? Could it be me?"
**********************************************************************

I buy my shampoo and conditioner from the Netherlands because, even including a hefty shipping charge, it is still cheaper for me to procure these items from one of the Low Countries than from a salon or online service within my native land. So, mad props to the WTO, I guess.



And I'm asking you to hold me
Just like the morning paper
Pinched between your pointer
Your index and your thumb



[mayj]: Oh Jesse May, how I have missed you.
**********************************************************************

I buy my shampoo and conditioner from the Netherlands because, even including a hefty shipping charge, it is still cheaper for me to procure these items from one of the Low Countries than from a salon or online service within my native land. So, mad props to the WTO, I guess.



And I'm asking you to hold me
Just like the morning paper
Pinched between your pointer
Your index and your thumb



[mayj]: You are the only person to have ever called me a bastard as a compliment. All the other times, it was someone referring to my questionable paternity.



No new deafness, no self-reference.
No getting psyched on, no culture icons.
**********************************************************************

Late last night, I watched a couple people taking their cat on a walk sans leash. They were talking to the cat, cheering him on and showing their pride and appreciation for how good he was behaving on his walk. I just stood at the window and laughed. Of course, I was stooopid high when this occurred---but shit like that always/only happens when you're high.


My sister's cat, which she's had for the past few years, is named Cobi, after the L.A. Galaxy player Jones, but his name is close enough to that of the maybewouldhedidhe that he'll be subjected to incessant teasing from all his little cat friends. I mean, what if you were named Adolf?


Since Kobe's currently keeping mum about his alleged deeds, I think the only thing we have to look to for a clue to his guilt or innocence is public statements he's made in the past. I am, of course, referring to his strangely prescient verse found in the remix of Destiny's Child's "Say My Name." To wit:

Uh, hear me out a little bit
I got something to say about that, huh
Hold up sweetie, slow your roll
What, you out of your mind, outta control?
Questioning me like I'm a criminal or something
Stole your heart or something
Like I'm up to something
You must be with girlfriends, guys have been
And chicks hate on Kobe 'cause he ain't with them
Feel me now, listen how silly you sound
Suspecting a voice in the background
Come on now, your trust is foul
Checking messages now
How old are we now? [ed. note: You're 24; she's 19.]
Probably hate me now like Nastradamus
'Cause I'm just keeping it real, with you honest
My silence forgive, I was stressing then
I was shopping with my ex for lingerie
For my newfound love, that would be you
No shame in your name, I'll say what I want to

Clearly, from the above, there is enough evidence to convict Kobe. Of being a terrible rapper. Drawing on the precedent of People vs. Kravitz, rhyming "something" with "something" with "something" has to be worth at least one pistol-whipping from 50 Cent.



[mayj]---If I (as a soup) had been prepared by that individual under those conditions, I would surely be overflowing with hepatitis A goodness. That reminds me: Have you been able to locate your uber-specialized self-help book? I believe the title was something to the effect of "Chicken Soup for Jesse May's Soul. Yes, You, Jesse May, You and Your Soul!"

And, I can only imagine, you as Mercutio must be hand-in-glove.



Plan of: mayj
Last log in: Fri August 15th, 9:59 PM
Last update: Fri August 15th, 8:27 AM
Name: Finnish dogs say "guff guff"
PLAN OF: woodeli
LAST LOG IN: Mon July 27th, 9:02 pm
LAST UPDATE: Mon July 28th, 12:08 pm
NAME: The Hobbit, or, Who is Elijah?



9/8/02
Thom Yorke called me the other day to ask me to write some lyrics for him. Don't know where he got my name, but I guess one rockstar knows another. This one goes out to [reid] for inspiration

"The Gondoliar (Tired Arms and Old Songs)"
Row row row my boat
Up and down your venice
Pickpocket tourist
[garbled] hungry bear
Currents menace menace
menace
menace
menace

you and your brother
faded like old photos
I'm in my gondola
ipswitch paranoia [garbled]
Feed me your granola
granola granola granola granola
granola
granola
granola

[high pitched wine]

nyaaaaaaaa
My song runs over
Spills your guts
pennies from a coin purse
pursy pursy pursy pursy
nya nya [garbled]
weeeeooooooooo!
Gondoliar! [static]
Gondoliar! [unintellible shout]
Gondoliah! [static]
Gondolaaah! [static]
Gaannolaaaa! [static]
Gaaahoaaaaaah! [silence]

[scratchy recording of Fred MacMurray from "Son of Flubber" saying, "Anyone who falls flat on their face is at least moving in the right direction -- forward."]

Sweet. That's it. Look for it on Billboard with the songwriting credits as follows:

#1. Weeks at #1: 57. THE GONDOLIAR (TIRED ARMS AND OLD SONGS) greenwood/selway/yorke/o'brian/WOODS


3/15/03
I'm a DJ and a rock superstar. But I totally need a tricked-out DJ name to work under, though...any ideas Plan-ers?

3/16/03
Wow, total outpouring of support for my DJ name, here's some of the suggestions so far:

DJ Slippery Shadow
DJ Tricky Shadow
DJ RikkiTikkiShadow (You guys do know there's a "DJ Shadow" out there, right?)
Moby (Thanks [bloomorla], but it's taken, dumbass)
DJ Scratchy Nuts (enough with the "DJ _________" fill-in-the-blank!)
Bilbo Scratchins (*sigh* frickin' LORT fans...)

Keep 'em coming...

3/17/03
WE TOTALLY HAVE A WINNER! My new DJ name is...

"GordonShumway"

Thanks [tanneral] for the GREAT suggestion!

3/28/03
I'm an indie superstar. Check out my DJ-ing company at www.whoisgordonshumwaythedj.com. It's the bomb. Moby's gonna' eat vinyl. But no meat. Just vinyl. lol! J/K Moby!



*********************************************************************
FRODO BAGGINS' ONLINE JOURNAL:

Day 1: My. Such an epic adventure I've embarked upon. A bit peeved, though, that Sam is tagging along - naggy git thinks he's my grandmother. Which, for the uninitiated - through a convoluted bit of wily Hobbit breeding - he actually is. But still...

Day 2: It's only been two days and I'm sick of this already...
If I have to touch [gandalf]'s nasty, crusty old staff one more time...

*********************************************************************
ELIJAH WOOD'S ONLINE JOURNAL (On-set, "LORD OF THE RINGS")

My. Such an epic adventure I've embarked upon. A bit peeved, though, that Sean Astin is tagging along - naggy git thinks he's my grandmother. Fortunately it seems like all he does is sit around in his trailer watching "Rudy" and "Lucas" on BETA (I guess Sean was really jealous of Cory after they worked together on "Goonies" and Cory got the football movie while Sean got chubby). I give him old school points for the BETA, but still...

If I have to touch [mckellen]'s nasty, crusty old staff one more time...

Did anyone know Viggo can de-materialize and re-materialize at will?!


*********************************************************************
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Sprite ReMix.................#########....................xiMeR etirpS
...............the only ReMix you can't get on vinyl.................
.............................#########...............................

(c) The Coca-Cola Company. "Sprite" and "Sprite ReMix" are trademarks of the Coca-Cola Company

*********************************************************************
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PLAN OF: loctone
LAST LOG IN: Tues Aug 11th, 2:27 am
LAST UPDATE: Tues Aug 11th, 5:56 am
NAME: Angel of Rhyme


8/11/03
Yo', go check out "Freaky Friday"!!! That is some wacked-out shit! I haven't laughed so hard since "Spaced Invaders"! Me and Sheena took the kids and was like, "whoa, damn, Jamie Lee Curtis can ACT, yo!" Though I heard somethin' said about her being some kinda' hermarfroditty... don't know what that's all about. But go see that shit, man!!! Oh, man, "Freaky Friday"...just sayin' that name makes me laugh!

12/3/90
Yo [cooljll], finally got around to listening to "Mama Said Knock You Out". S'okay. You got a lot on your mind, that's obvious. Your metaphors on "Milky Cereal" are asked to bear more weight than they can bear, though. Also, one question you might want to ask yourself, "Who's mama?" Mine? Yours? These are important distinctions to be made, without which your song has neither specificity nor context.

2/28/89
S'up, [abdulp] that's some low talkin' 'bout the L O C on your plan. "Straight Up" may be at #1, but my "Wild Thang" is straight up pokin' your ass at #2 and sellin' like a mutha'. 2 million copies. Yo'. Young MC gonna' be so proud of me.

2/27/89
Someone was tellin' me word's goin' round that "Wild Thang" and "Funky Cold Medina" is the same song. Yo'. That's low shit. Yo'. Just listen to what John Bush from AMG said in his review of "Funky...":

"'Funky Cold Medina'" became the second of two platinum hits for Tone-Loc during 1989, working off an almost identical sample from "Wild Thing" and undoubtedly confusing many radio listeners who figured they were the same song. While the theme is also similar, "Funky Cold Medina" deals with a love potion that Tone gets from a friend, tests on his dog, and then brings into battle with a few unintended consequences. It's an (obviously) lighthearted look at the travails of romance during the 1980s, and one of the best performances by a follow-up single with a similar (some would say identical) theme."

TWO PLATINUM HITS. Don't say nothin' about no same song. Nowhere. TWO PLATINUM HITS. That's all I see. Don' know about you. So don't go sayin' I'm not doing my job. 'Specially you [abdulp]. You're just bitter. And lonely. And short.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

7/4/88
Normally I don't share my journal entries, but this is so seriously wack, I just gotta' share:

"6/27/88
So I'm cold cooling at a ball, looking for some action - but like Mick Jagger said, "I can't get no satisfaction" - the girls are all around but none of them wanna get with me. My threads are fresh and I'm looking def; Yo wassup with the l o c?

The girls are all jocking at the other end of the bar having drinks with some no name chump when they know that I'm the star. So I got up and strolled over to the other side of the cantina.
I asked the guy, "Why you so fly?"
He said, "Funky cold medina." This brother told me a secret on how to get more chicks, "Put a little medina in your glass and the girls'll come real quick; it's better than any alcohol or afrodesiac. A couple of sips of this love potion and she'll be on your lap!"

So, I gave some to my dog when he began to beg.
And then he licked his bowl.
And he looked at me...
And did the wild thing on my leg. He used to scratch and bite me - before he was much much meaner - but now all the poodles run to my house for the funky cold medina. You know what I'm saying? I got every dog in my neighborhood breaking down my door: I got Spuds McKenzie, Alex from Strolls. They won't leave my dog alone with that medina thing!


So, I went up to this girl.
She said "Hi, my name Sheena," (I thought she'd be good to go with a little funky cold medina) "I'd like a drink."
I said "Ok, I'll go get it." And then a couple of sips, she cold licked her lips and I knew that she was with it!

So I took her to my crib and everything went well as planned... but when she got undressed...it was big old mess:

Sheena was a man.

So I threw him out. I don't fool around with no Oscar Meyer weiner (you must be sure that the girl is pure for the funky cold medina)!
You know, I ain't got no plans with a man; this is the 80s and I'm down with the ladies.

Break it down.

Back in the saddle - looking for a little affection - I took a shot: I thought I'd test it on the Love Connection. The audience guests voted, and you know, they picked a winner! I took my date to the Hilton ford, Medina had some dinner, she had a few drinks, I'm thinking soon what I'd be getting...but that's when she started talking 'bout plans for a wedding!
I said "wait, slow down love, not so fast. I'll be seeing ya." That's why I found you don't play around with the funky cold medina. You know what I'm saying? That medina's a monster y'all."




_____________________________________________________________________
Jesse's Tiny $800/a month Plan Sublet
_____________________________________________________________________

It's rare that a man wishes he were Vin Diesel's character from "Pitch Black", what with his polished eyes with which he can see in the dark - albeit, trapped on an desert planet with voracious, winged aliens trying to eat you - but after walking 140 blocks to my pitch black apartment...well, I thought, Vin Diesel sure had it sweet. My only regret about the power outage: not nearly enough looting or kissing of strangers for fear that it would be my last day on earth alive.

*************NEWSFLASH:
Circle Jerk Co-Sponsored by Maxim/Stuff/FHM writers was as fun as they thought it would be. Check out www.maximstufffhmcirclejerk.com for clips and photo's of their newest columnist, Spoo-Biscuit, and to read it's first column, "Spoo Knew? We Ask the Biscuit"


__________________
[gratch] I was kid growing up in Eugene once. Lived right across from a huge cement resevoir. I can only hope that in my youth I bought some beads or hookah paraphernalia at the 5th Street Market from a righteous guy like you.


_______________________
Awwww: and my special Hallmark Greeting goes out to Kate, "Screw you, nutsack, you're HOT!"

_______________________
[hendrick], there are a few women on this planet that I wouldn't have reservations about calling a "bastard", and you're one of them. You sexy lil' bastard, you. Said with, of course, nothing but respect.

And now, with regard to your "questionable paternity", I say this: If I order soup, I don't care who made the soup, what went into the soup, where the soup was made, or under what conditions the soup was made; the soup could've been made by a naked billy bob thornton, stirring it with his arm, using only chunks of stuff he scraped off angelina jolie, cooked in his backyard gin-still - but if it's good soup, damned if I won't enjoy it. You, audrey, are good soup. Even if Billy Bob did brew you in his backyard.


________________
[witham], [rathjenc], [robson], [wagner], [jansonp], [reid], [hendrick] and the dozens of others who bring light into my life...it's good to finger you again.

[phelps] do you h8 sk8ter boi's?

****** Currently rehearsing two productions off-off broadway *******
1) restaging of naked play, "Scrambled Eggs, Bagels, and Other Acts of Love", highlights include strobe-lit orgy scene *sigh* @The Producer's Club, Sept.10-20th.
2) Romeo and Juliet, Mercutio, @The American Theatre of Actors, early October


**********************************************************************

D'ya know what really pisses me off? Cuba Gooding Jr., in the upcoming Radio, testing the limits of his acting "ability" in portraying a mentally-challenged individual. By always having a big dopey tooth-full grin on his face. That's insulting and offensive to retards everywhere.


[nisbett]: Sorry; I told you it was cursory on my part. Glad it wasn't 3EB after all.
**********************************************************************

"Everything I have learned from the intensive study of both normal people and patients who have sustained damage to various parts of their brains points to an unsettling notion: that you create your own 'reality' from mere fragments of information, that what you 'see' is a reliable---but not always accurate---representation of what exists in the world, that you are completely unaware of the vast majority of events going on in your brain." - V.S. Ramachandran



[blankens]: I liked this quote because it's not so much profound as just simply and clearly stated, something most scientists have a real problem doing. I recently read a book of his that dealt with the many elements that comprise the brain's role in perception. I find hemi-neglect interesting, but I think even more fascinating are those individuals who have post-stroke anosognosia and, despite the paralysis on one side of their body, are so certain that they have retained their complete range of movement that they'll make up wild confabulations to support that idea (i.e., "I can't move my arm because I've been moving it all day and it's tired."). Also, Charles Bonnet syndrome gives me hope that even if I go blind, I'll still be able to see something.

[routh]/[sherburn]/[venugopa]: I interpreted the film as a writer getting so wrapped up and excited about what she's doing that she falls in love with her characters and the situations she's devised, allowing them to infiltrate other aspects of her life. The thing I wonder about is if there isn't some of Sarah in Julie (no fisting jokes please). I mean, Sarah does say that she was around in "swinging London," so that seems to be a reference to some past promiscuousness on her part. There's a duality between her and Julie; the scenes where each of them are sunning themselves by the pool with an aroused man standing nearby are a good indication of that. So I think that Sarah is, to an extent, drawing on her own wild times in creating the persona of Julie. But yes, Ludivine Sagnier is unassailably hot. Girl's got presence, for sure. And by "presence" I mean "great tits."



I have grown far too accustomed to some of the realities of residing in Seattle. Case in point: Walking home a couple nights ago, I spy a loading dock with an overhang covering the street entrance, and my first thought is "Why isn't anyone sleeping there?"
**********************************************************************

Conversations I'd Like to Have---

John Mayer: Your body is a wonderland.
Me: YOUR body is a wonderland.
JM: I'll use my hands.
Me: I'LL use MY hands.
JM:
Me: By the way, is that statement a promise or a thinly-veiled threat?


Mya: My love is like...wo.
Me: MY LOVE is like...wo.
Mya: My ass is like...wo.
Me: MY ASS is like...wo.
Mya: My body's like...wo.
Me: I know that you stole this schtick from Black Rob.



Incorporating This Belligerency into My Everyday Life: An Actual Conversation---

(Brief background: I've been doing some volunteer work for an initiative that will be on the ballot in Seattle this September. It proposes to put a ten-cent surcharge on expresso drinks, with the revenue gained from this tax directly funding childcare and early learning programs. This is an initiative that has overwhelming public support and overwhelming merchant opposition. Starbucks, being as bastardly as possible, has gone so far as to threaten to stop making charitable donations to any daycare centers that support this tax. Anyway, I've been going to neighborhood farmers' markets on the weekend to increase awareness about the initiative, hand out pamphlets, remind people to vote, etc.)

So, last Saturday...

(man entering farmers' market)
Me: Hi. Have you heard of Initiative 77?
Him: No.
Me:
Him: That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard.
Me: (looking at him holding the hands of his two small children) It's for kids.
Him: That's dumb.
Me: YOU'RE dumb.

FIN



I love David Rees. My favorite strip in this latest episode is the long-ass one posted on 08/12. Check out the Human Rights Watch link as well and the actual report cited if you're feeling ambitious...or just enjoy reading disturbing shit.

The best GYWO quote of late: "I would be satisfied if the United States deferred to humanitarian aid and human rights organizations in planning and financing foreign policy. Does that mean that I hate freedom?"
**********************************************************************

"If there is to be what political philosopher John Rawls calls an infrastructure of justice--one insuring that everyone, despite any accident of birth, gets a chance to develop his or her talents, participate in the life of society, exercise liberties, and enjoy basic living standards--then a system must be in place to maintain it. And that system is of necessity the state, with its ability to tax and spend. In this conception, the state is not a coercive interloper but a trustee of social fairness, providing the foundation for any society's long-term social health and wealth."

Read the whole thing right herre. Or take a gander at this other interesting article right thurr.

[arnone01]: I didn't say nothing about letting poor people reproduce. Involuntary government-sponsored sterilization of all except the select few...now that's the ticket!


Cass McCombs sez: "We are living in an era of kings." I tend to believe it.


Hey, where's the roadmap? Has anyone seen that blasted roadmap?
**********************************************************************

What others refer to as "Employee Health Services," I like to think of as "Mom." A mom that's really into TB tests and flu shots.

Today, Mom dug a splinter out of the palm of my hand that's been there since Saturday and gave me a tetanus shot for good measure.

Thanks Mom.




The U.S. Open just raised the bar in Opening Ceremony Gawdy-Suckageness. Dirty dancing (that was constantly described by the commentators as "sexy"), elevator jazz, and a Star Search Juniors semifinalist? I'm surprised the ground didn't open up right there and swallow Flushing in its entirety, The Nanny and all.
**********************************************************************

Exactly how many fags must one acquire to attain the status of "hag"?


Highlights of Living with a Gay Man:
-we like to brunch
-he excitedly shows me what he has purchased that day: placemats and napkin rings
-the best goddamn leather couch my money didn't buy
-when I mention [bloom] in passing, he snickers at the word "B.J."
-we both laugh at the term "philatelist"
-he chortles when I say that I need to get a facial
-okay, so there's a lot of dick jokes
-we have similar tastes in men
-entire days spent painting our nails and watching The Real World
-we share a crush on the cuteguynextdoor and plan on plying him with liquor to figure out if he's interested in either/both of us
-he primarily addresses me as "hottie"
-if I tell him I have a date, he responds with an enthusiastic "you go girl!"
-buggering in the living room




So, I had a dream not too long ago where I was set to meet Howard Dean (I'm not even sure why the big HD was in my dream, as I'm not as dewy-eyed over him as a lot of people seem to be). Anyway, instead of being all excited to meet a presidential candidate, my plan was to ask dear Howard his opinion on a few articles I had read about him. Like, "what do you think about this Salon article that says if you're the Democratic nominee, the Southern states will be guaranteed to go to Bush and he can then focus his time/energy/money on other swing states?" So even my dreams are all geeky and political.

Other recent bits of dreams:
-I'm at the post office and need to send a package and buy stamps. The employee informs me that they only mail packages on certain days (today not being one of them) and that they don't have any stamps.
-Also, in that dream, I was engaged to be married. To no one in particular. I just know that because there was a modest diamond on my ring finger.
-And, I'm at a bar, where I'm going to order a drink (a dirty martini, perhaps?), but the bartender says that they don't have any olives. For a while, I wasn't sure if this actually happened, and thought it could have been a drunken memory, but at this point, I feel I can safely conclude that I dreamt it.


[bloom]: You neglected to mention that this weekend also offers the opportunity to see approximately one million other great bands (including The New Pornographers, Wilco, and The Shins). And that the opening act for Radiohead is Stephen fucking Malkmus. Personally, I hope that your sister is as hot as your brother. And if I do ever meet your grandma, I'm totally gonna feel her shit up.


And while I'm delineating the good things about living in Seattle...

Along with the "latte tax," there's another initiative to be voted on September 16th that has garnered wide public support. It proposes (rather than paraphrasing, I'm going to quote directly from the text of the initiative for greatest impact): "The Seattle Police Department and City Attorney’s Office shall make the investigation, arrest, and prosecution of marijuana offenses, where the marijuana was intended for adult personal use, the City’s lowest law enforcement priority."

I walked by a fundraiser for the initiative last night that was being held at a cafe near my apartment. The crowd wasn't all burnt-out ex-hippies like you'd expect. Instead, it consisted of well-dressed middle-aged professionals and a large contingency of old ladies, all gathered in the support of the individual's right to smoke weed without fear of jail time.

I love this town.

(Oh, and the headliner at this pro-pot party? None other than Rick Steves, PBS travelwriter/possible marijuana enthusiast.)
**********************************************************************

Just what does one purchase for a second anniversary? Well, according to the Chicago Public Library, the traditional gift is cotton and the modern equivalent is china. I say combine the two: Someone needs to leave a set of cloth dishes at ground zero next week.

On that note, the latest bit o' brilliance from David Rees in the latest Rolling Stone (because the stock-footage illustrations are extraneous, as far as I'm concerned. oh, and the italics are all him)---

Man: I can't believe it's already been two years. I'm so exhausted---I feel like I started running a marathon on September 12, 2001, and I haven't stopped since. And I'm fucking sick of it. I'm sick of feeling like I gotta read the newspaper every day. I'm sick of having to open my atlas every goddamn time there's a new terror threat. I'm sick of President Bush acting like half our allies in the war on terrorism aren't total fucking creeps. I'm sick of Donald Rumsfeld's gray skin and naked contempt. I'm sick of feeling queasy every time I go to the gas station. I'm sick of trying to remain optimistic. I'm sick of hearing about refugees and kids with no fucking arms. I'm sick of left-wingers and right-wingers slinging shit and trying to out-patriot each other. I'm sick of Lower Manhattan's skyline looking like... Decatur, or some fucking two-bit wannabe metropolis. And I'm sick of all the tattered, fading flags---buy a new fucking flag if you're such a patriot, for fuck's sake! I'm sick of my friends being unemployed. I'm sick of my kids asking me when the world will be better. I'm sick of not trusting anybody with a microphone. I'm truly sick of dumb motherfuckers who think Saddam Hussein had something to do with it. I'm sick of think tanks. Fucking stupid think tanks---would you stop thinking and fucking fix something, for fuck's sake? I'm sick of people who argue with me. I'm sick of worrying if I've been wrong all along. I'm sick of people writing speeches for children and giving them to adults. I'm sick of Joe Lieberman. Please, please shut up, Joe Lieberman. I'm sick of sirens. I'm sick of the smell of alcohol. I'm sick of crying when I hear Rhapsody in Blue. I'm sick of sometimes feeling empty.

Woman: You know what I'm sick of? I'm sick of my cousin being dead.






In much more important news (thank god for Page 6):


JUSTIN'S HATE SONG TO BRITNEY

JUSTIN Timberlake isn't exactly hiding his ill will toward his former girlfriend, Britney Spears.

Millions watched Timberlake sit stone-faced as Spears tongue-kissed Madonna during the racy opening number at the MTV Video Music Awards.

A few hours later, during a performance at Roseland ballroom, Timberlake did a barbed rendition of "Cry Me a River" in which he crooned lyrics from Carly Simon's "You're So Vain." He repeated the line "I bet you think this song is about you" over and over, a none-too-subtle slap at Spears. When the song ended, Timberlake said, "It is."
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(why dont you grow a life?)

Sunday, September 21st, 2003
8:39 pm - Mia, Mia, Mia: Three Hamm Assists Lead U.S. Past Sweden 3-1
WASHINGTON, D.C. (Sunday, September 21, 2003) - Mia Hamm assisted on three U.S. goals - two off corner kicks - as the U.S. held off Sweden 3-1 on Sunday afternoon in RFK Stadium. The U.S. opened the scoring in the 28th minute with Abby Wambach dribbling into the right side of the box before playing the ball square to Hamm. Hamm sent the ball to the top left side of the box to Kristine Lilly, who joined the play with a hard blast into the upper left corner. Nine minutes later Hamm would find the head of Cindy Parlow of a corner to give the U.S. a 2-0 going into halftime. Sweden got a goal back, but Shannon Boxx became the first U.S. player to score a goal in each of her first three appearances to put the game out of reach for Sweden. U.S. defender Brandi Chastain came out of the match at halftime with a foot injury, and will be evaluated by team doctors this week. In the other Group A match, North Korea made easy work of Nigeria 3-0 in Lincoln Financial field on Saturday. The U.S. leaves tonight for Philadelphia, where they will meet up with Nigeria this Thursday at 7:30 p.m. ET live on TeleFutura and ESPN2.

(1 grew a life | why dont you grow a life?)

Thursday, August 21st, 2003
10:35 pm
div style="width: 400; text-align: center; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">

Creationists
Circle I Limbo

DMV Employees
Circle II Whirling in a Dark & Stormy Wind

Rednecks
Circle III Mud, Rain, Cold, Hail & Snow

Geeks
Circle IV Rolling Weights

The Pope
Circle V Stuck in Mud, Mangled

River Styx

Saddam Hussein
Circle VI Buried for Eternity

River Phlegyas

The New York Yankees
Circle VII Burning Sands

Goths
Circle IIX Immersed in Excrement

Osama bin Laden
Circle IX Frozen in Ice

Design your own hell

</div>

(why dont you grow a life?)

Thursday, July 17th, 2003
9:19 pm
[bendich01]: An Ethiopian boyfriend would be convenient, especially because by the time I would tire of him, he'd be as good as dead. I only wish that the AIDS was sold separately (rather than being a package deal), since it's not too conducive to the hitting of skins. However, My Ethiopian Boyfriend would be a great sitcom, as it's your standard fish-out-of-water tale. All kinds of wackiness could ensue. Like, it'd be Christmas and I would take Ethiopian Boyfriend home to meet my family. He'd see the big dinner spread and, overtaken by hunger and amazed by the sheer quantity of food available, he'd eat a whole bunch of it before we had the sit-down meal. Or he'd be confused by indoor plumbing and would defecate all over the house instead. Or he'd give me malaria. Every episode would end with all the characters shaking their heads and laughing incredulously, "Oh, Ethiopian Boyfriend."

Note: This is very similar in format to another one of my sitcoms, entitled My Nazi Barber, based on the man who cuts my father's hair, who, yes, was a member of the Nazi SS and would regale my dad with tales of weapons and anti-semitism and "if only we had done [blank], we would have won the war." For that reason, when going for a haircut, my dad makes damn sure not to wear his yarmulke. The yarmulke he took as a trophy after bayoneting some Jew.

[blankens]: 1992 Buick LeSabre + old man + use of right foot = 9 dead, 50+ injured. Perhaps some of his elderly peers overcompensate, driving extra-slow to avoid the occurrence of a similar tragedy. Or maybe they don't step on the gas petal because they don't want to crush the gas flower.

(why dont you grow a life?)

Wednesday, July 16th, 2003
8:33 pm
Clearly, the man on the bus who called me a "soulless being in the skin-bag of a woman" did not know that I, in fact, have too much soul, causing me to cry at:
-life, and that this is the only world we have to live in
-my serious case of boyfriend-longing
-the CNN crawl that said that 70% of deaths in Ethiopia of individuals aged 20-54 are attributable to AIDS
-and---yes, fer chrissakes, what the fuck is wrong with me?---the trailer for Winged Migration. The trailer.

He also called me a "little narcissistic wretch" and informed me that I was "going to hell," but, shit, I can't argue with either of those assessments.

[bloom]: I've got plenty of that kind of soul as well. Scads. And you may call me a pussy, but I'm pretty sure that my soul could kick your soul's ass.

(why dont you grow a life?)

Friday, July 11th, 2003
7:17 pm
So, one of the questions posed at bar trivia was "Who was the first president to throw out the ceremonial first pitch at an all-star game?" We knew that MLB didn't institute an all-star game until the '30s, so we went through the presidents chronologically, searching for an answer. I immediately discounted FDR, laughing out loud at the thought of a polio-afflicted man confined to a wheelchair throwing a baseball. However, the answer ended up being FmotherfuckingDR in 1937, which (1) makes me look like a big, handicapped-hating asshole, and (2) leads me to believe that this famous first pitch was actually thrown by Eleanor.


Yesterday morning during REM sleep: A doctor has to give a child an injection (actually, a mixture of a drug and the doctor's own blood), but there's no usable syringes. For this reason, I am emptying out the barrels of black Bic® ball-point stick pens, to somehow fashion a working substitute.

(why dont you grow a life?)

Thursday, July 10th, 2003
9:21 pm
Whilst brushing my teeth, I laughed to myself at the thought of Willy singing "Doontoon."

But this leads to a greater truth: I love dental hygiene. And because I takes care of my teeth and have never had any cavities, I actually enjoy going to the dentist, as every appointment ends up being an hour of compliments. My apartment is above a dentist's office and I would be there everyday (or at least once a week) for cleanings, if only my insurance would pay for an exorbitant amount of tooth care. I would go so far as to say I would marry a dentist, just for all the free floss and fluoride treatments. I'll take the increased risk of bone cancer if it means I can chew through glass.



---Korea vs. Chorea: The Ultimate Battle---
It'd be close, but I have a feeling that dyskinesia would take down the Asian powerhouse in the fifth round. Never underestimate the power of rapid, dance-like movements.



"Though you were smashed, you looked smashing."



I am in possession of:
-nine-tenths of the law
-a Sarah McLachlan song
-weapons of mass destruction
-a demon, until the exorcism
-an A.S. Byatt novel adapted into a Neil LaBute film
-1.5 ounces of marijuana on my person, carefully wrapped in aluminum foil



"I'm a good feminist role model, because I'm practically a man."



The last time I saw B.J. [bloom], I could smell the badpersonness oozing out of his pores.


Me getting locked out of my apartment at midnight means that four out of the five apartments in the building come to my aid: Alfredo in his boxers looking for a spare key; Bruce in his bathrobe calling my roommate; Brian devising a way to crawl along a ledge to the roof and then dropping to an open window; Jared ceasing his viewing of The Royal Tenenbaums in order to move the propane grill and allow full access to his deck; and Josh climbing from deck to deck until he reaches mine and gains entrance via the luckily (and rarely) unlocked door. Camaraderie up the ass.

So now, with nearly two years under my belt in Seattle, life is finally starting to resemble Singles. Just without the grunge.


Hey [blankens]: In today's NYT, Safire's op-ed quotes Antonio Damasio. No mention of Hanna.

(why dont you grow a life?)

Tuesday, July 8th, 2003
8:37 pm
p.s. [carrollg]: Flattery and talk of Shakira will get you nowhere, dickface.

(why dont you grow a life?)

11:44 am
Q: What do Kobe Bryant and I have in common?
A: Both our weekends were scandalicious. Ok, mine less so.

Formally addressing the accusations of felony sexual assault made against him last week, Kobe Bryant publicly defended himself in saying, “Obey your [raping] thirst. Drink Sprite.” Pressed further for details by reporters, Bryant grew indignant and ended the press conference abruptly, but not before again asserting his innocence, telling those gathered, “A dub a dub a dub-dub.”



Also:
(1) I never knew how sweet life could be until I started living with a gay man.
(2) My existence won't be nearly as fun when people (inevitably, I'm afraid) stop letting me do whatever the hell I want.
(3) I can't wait until [bloom] gets Mad Cow Disease. B.J., I hope I can be the one to personally put you down (read: shoot you in the head).
(4) Enrollment in a belly-dancing class is step #8 on the road to becoming Shakira. Next stop: Ass implants!

(why dont you grow a life?)

Thursday, July 3rd, 2003
4:33 pm
[beukema]/[routh]: Production is set to begin this fall on a remake of The Manchurian Candidate, directed by Jonathan Demme (who needs a box office hit like his late nephew needed an eight ball). Updated to take place in the (first?) Gulf War, the film is set to star Denzel Washington as Frank Sinatra, Meryl Streep as Angela Lansbury, and Liev Schrieber as Laurence Harvey. Currently scheduled for a 2004 release.

[dinnervi01]: Breastfeeding is healthy for mother and child. Suck it up.
(pun fully intended.)


When I describe a girl as “dumpy,” it usually means she has a wide flat ass.

(why dont you grow a life?)

Wednesday, July 2nd, 2003
8:03 pm
In the play that is my life, the role of victim/martyr is always performed by my mother.


why don't you go down to the river
and see if you can fish out some friends


I wash my fruit with fruit-scented soap.


That little kid from Picket Fences has grown up, gotten mad ugly, and now works for Pizza Hut.


Edward Hopper-inspired AOL discs = Best commodification of American iconography to be used by me as a coaster EVER!


I would second the argument posited elsewhere by Morrissey et al. :
Because
if it's not love,
then it's
the bomb
the bomb
the bomb
the bomb
the bomb
the bomb
the bomb that will bring us together.

(why dont you grow a life?)

Tuesday, July 1st, 2003
9:11 pm
With the first day at a real job under my belt, I can safely say that I am now officially a big girl.

(why dont you grow a life?)

Sunday, June 29th, 2003
7:48 pm
I can't wait to go out and have some highest-court-in-the-land-sanctioned sodomy.

[routh]: Definitely more important. Definitely.

The video for Beyonce's "Crazy in Love" is quite possibly the best advertisement I've ever seen. Way to sell yourself, girl.

(why dont you grow a life?)

Friday, June 27th, 2003
6:01 pm
In some ways and under some circumstances, a fork can be considered the superior utensil for yogurt consumption

(why dont you grow a life?)

Tuesday, June 17th, 2003
5:44 pm
Master'sbated.
O-fficially.




Now all I gotta do is convince everyone to refer to me as "Massa."

(why dont you grow a life?)

Tuesday, June 10th, 2003
6:09 pm
The Secret Lives of Dentists sheds some light on why this particular medical profession has the highest incidence of suicide.



El Conversación---

Scene: At one of the many dive bars near the university, which always has an interesting and diverse cast of characters, including (but not limited to) frat boys, sorority girls, other assorted students, local hard-core alcoholics, an albino, and, often, a goth midget girl. I am waiting at the back of the line to procure a drink from the middle-aged Russian bartendress, who has a proclivity for making large, cheap drinks where the components not containing ethanol are there only for color’s sake. There are maybe five people in this line, and a couple guys directly in front of me, one of whom feels the need to engage me in conversation.

Random Guy: (wearing swim goggles atop his head and a sticker on his face) At the back of the line, huh?
Me: Looks like that. Until someone else gets here.
RG: Onward and upward!
Me: Yup.
RG: So, where’s your B?
Me: Where’s my “B”?
RG: Yeah, is he here?
Me: Uh, no.
RG: Is he at home?
Me: No.
RG: Is he on vacation?
Me: (wanting this to be over) I guess so.
RG: On vacation, he’s on vacation mwhahahahahaha!

Meanwhile, his friend is attempting to get drinks that the bar doesn’t have ingredients for, until, frustrated, I ask them, “Look, I know what I’m ordering, so can I just go first?” They oblige. And when they're up to bat again, the guy decided to order shots of vodka, but didn’t fully understand the concept of a “double.”

Random Guy’s Friend: I’ll just get two shots of vodka.
Russian Bartendress: Do you want two separate shots or two shots in one glass?
RGF: Yeah, two shots.
RB: Do you want the two shots in one glass?
RGF: Yes, I’d like ice.
RB: (exasperated) Two shots in two shot glasses or in one shot glass?
RGF: Oh, in one glass.

I left those morons for the foosball table. Later, Goggleguy gave me a piece of gum.



This morning, at the ATM next to the one I was using, was a girl, who looked to be in her early twenties, receiving instructions in ATM basics (“ok, now you have to choose the account you’re getting funds from. ok, now pick whatever amount of money you want.”) from a Wells Fargo employee. I was truly befuddled as to how this girl (who looked to be in the Greek system) had no experience running an ATM and was so confounded by the mechanical skill involved in successfully operating one that she had to seek out help from someone who works at the bank.

There are only a few groups of people I can think of with good reason to need technical assistance in ATM usage:
-the elderly, or other people frightened/overwhelmed by new technology
-blind people who can’t read Braille
-illiterate people who have not yet mastered an ATM’s button-pressing pattern
-someone who has never had contact with this “machine” from living in the boondocks, or the heart of a jungle, or, say, Mongolia
-time travelers

(why dont you grow a life?)

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