From the New York Times:

BAGHDAD, Iraq, April 27 — American forces today arrested Baghdad's self-appointed mayor, Muhammad Mohsen Zobeidi, bundling him and seven of his top aides into an Army Humvee after he defied warnings to stop acting as the city's chief administrator.

I can't put my finger on it, but I got a good chuckle when I first read that. Hope you do too. Happy Monday.

http://www.blackpeopleloveus.com

Click here for the funniest site I've seen in a long time.

I found this online quiz and, knowing most of my blog readers :), I figured this would be perfect fodder for us. Enjoy!

It's the "Sign of Affection" quiz... Which sign of affection are you? And no, Jackie, the "goosing" is not one of them. Hell, that doesn't just go out to Jackie. That goes out to all of you.

In any case, enjoy.


kiss on the lips - you're sweet and simple but
quite daring. you move for the kill confidently
knowing the other person wants the same thing.


What Sign of Affection Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla


Now, I'm not so sure this is the only thing I could be... I looked at the list of possibilities and found some other things that work for me.

So, what are you?

And remember, Jackie, no goosing.

I finally saw "Dead Poets' Society" after a lifetime of not having seen it.

Isn't that messed up? It's a sin that I hadn't seen it yet. So, yeah, that's all I have to say... That I... finally... saw... that... movie.

For the...
FIRST
TIME
EVER!

Just a quick, short post from Pat. For a change.

Except one last part...

The Ashlee Cooper Quote Hall of Fame:
"I just want to send her to the Deep South where people throw shovels at each other."

(That one's an oldie but a goodie, and being that I was hanging out with her and her wonderful roommie, Katy, tonight, and trying to persuade each of them to start a blog, I figured that a Coop/Katy shout-out would be quite appropriate.)

Now, while you soak in the great honey goodness of said quote, I will now use my new energy from said movie (masterpiece, Exhibit A of God) and use said juice to start my own revolution.

Have a good night.

NOTE: I'm posting this even though you slack hacks didn't respond to my killer cool post about the bums. Y'all are just whack. It was, like, the greatest post ever. All my posts are like my childrens, but it was, you know, golden, man, golden.

"If I could have it this way I know I'd
I'd wanna live where it's like today
I'd wanna live where it's always this way
I wanna live where it's always Saturday..."
-Guadalcanal Diary, "Always Saturday"

When my nephew got here yesterday, he was wearing an Oxford-style shirt. With a tie. And khakis. With loafers. And to top it all off, he was wearing a tan stetson-like fishing hat, identical to the one my dad wears.

"I'm dressed like Grandpa Leo!" he said.
"Yes, you most certainly are!" my sister said.

She said he's been dressing like this for over a month. His "work clothes," he calls them. He takes them off to go to school and then puts them back on when he comes home, and doesn't take them off until my brother-in-law comes home and takes his off. Michael's pretty proud.

John and I hadn't seen this yet, so we were still laughing. Michael was running toward the stairs when my mom found him. She laughed one of those shrieking laughs that scrunches her face and sends her hunched over.
"My, aren't you handsome!" she said.
"Yeah," Michael responded diffidently.
"Michael!" my sister corrected. "Say 'Thank you.'"
"Thank you," Michael said shyly, having been corrected.

Dad then came down and nearly died when he saw it.
"Grandpa Weo!"
"Hey, little buddy, I like your clothes!"
"Yeah."
Once again my sister:
"Michael! What do we say?!"
"Thank you."

Later in the day, Michael took part in a phone conversation with Ashley. The important thing to remember throughout said conversation is that he had that shy 4-year-old quietness when talking.
Michael: Hi.
Ashley: Hi! How are you?
Michael: Oh, I'm doing just great.
Ashley: Good!
Michael: Ashley, what are you doing?
Ashley: Well, I'm baking some apple pies, and doing some other cooking before going out with some friends tonight.
Michael: Oh, okay. Goodnight.

And then after she was off the phone...
Michael: Where is she going?
Me: Probably the Heidelberg?
Michael: What's the Heidah-bird?
Me: It's a restaurant-slash-bar. Your mommy used to go there a lot.
Michael: Ooooh.
Me: It's also called the 'Berg.
Michael: Oooooh. I see.
Me: Yup.
Michael: Where else is she going?
Me: Uh, I don't know?
Michael: Why's that, Uncle Pat?

By this point, it was time to go to Mass. Michael was staying home with my mom (Grandma Janie) and my brother (Unka John) while my sister, my brother-in-law, my dad and I went to Mass for Holy Saturday. This was about 7:20ish, and we weren't home for another two hours (one baptism and three confirmations, plus meet-and-greets afterward). Still, when we got home around 9:30ish, he was still awake. Mai, Kerry and Brad's exchange student, was couped up in Brian's old room trying to watch a movie about a mummy case. Poor Mai. I don't think he left the room all weekend.

I understand he likes rap, though, and supposedly he's even teaching Michael. Michael has taken to liking infants and babies now, so any song that says "baby" (the Ashanti song or half of the hip-hop/R&B collection) immediately catches his attention. Mai has gotten him into that "Bump Bump Bump" song, too, I think. While I can appreciate some aspects of modern rap, I thought it would be a great disservice to the boy if we neglected the earlier greats, such as Run DMC.

Me: Michael, I want to teach you a game.
Michael: Yeah!
Me: Okay, when I say 'Who's house?'--
Michael: Who's house!!!
Me: Okay, when I say 'Who's house?," I want you to say 'Run's house!' Okay?
Michael: Run's house!
Me: Yeah! Okay, let's start. Michael, who's house?
Michael: Who's house!!
Me: Who's house?!?
Michael: Run's house!!!

This follows a great list of things we* have taught Michael. *We being the collective of Uncles John, Brian and Patrick. I don't even want to know what Uncle Brent, Brad's brother, has taught him, though it's probably not as twisted. In any case, Kerry and Brad can blame us (Brian and John) for teaching Michael:
"Give me some sugar!"
"Pour some sugar on me!"
"Holla, holla!"
"Bling bling!"
"What what?"
"Who's yo daddy?"
"I'M your daddy!"

Fortunately, he's remembered only some of these, and with varying success at mastering the exact context. Thus, "Give me some sugar" has become "I like sugar!"

Yes, Michael, you sure do. That's why Grandma Janie made sure all the chocolate bunnies in the house this year were sugar-free. Because if it weren't Michael, it would be one of us, or perhaps one of my cousins' kids. And imagining that gives me the jibblies.

I was trying to explain to my sister the "Run's house" thing and how it came from "Dogma." Brian got it and thought it was pretty funny of me, but Kerry didn't get it. I told her it must be a generational thing. Boy, that got Kerry pissed.

"Patrick, I don't ever want to hear you say that ever again. We have the same parents, the same grandparents, the same great-grandparents. We are of the same generation."

Fine, maybe it's a cultural thing?

"Oh, I'm so old!"

No, no, no, it's cool. My friends and I are stuck in your culture. We all dig John Hughes and Psychadelic Furs.

"You mean that stuff's dated?"

It was a surreal weekend, as you can tell. I'm leaving out some of the conflicts over who was going to take a shower when so as to save hot water or who would watch Michael when, but for the most part, it was all pretty cool. Brian and I noted that the surreal feel of the weekend made it feel like we were in the 80s. Granted, we were listening to the Mall, talking about Sharon Harl back in the 80s, the Phi Kap house, and even partook in a family viewing of "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." For some reason, though, this all seemed natural. And it's hilarious to watch "Ferris Bueller" with my dad. He laughs at all the parts you would think I would be embarrassed to watch with him. It was pretty cool.

You know, St. Louis is still pretty cool. And even though I didn't get to see JJ or Baron or Rach, and even though I only saw Savage, Fank and Michelle for 20 minutes, or that Jill wasn't in town at all, it was still cool to get to see my family. I'm glad I decided to stick around till Monday morning. And even though I didn't get to see those folk, I got to experience them via memories, because, well, when I'm in St. Louis, I listen to the Mall. And you know why the Mall is cool, besides it reminding me of traversing 270 to get to St. Charles or Dougherty Ferry or Howdershell?

Here, look at these songs that the Mall has played in the last half-hour or so:
OMD, "If You Leave"
Bruce Springsteen, "Born in the U.S.A."
INXS, "Devil Inside"
Madonna, "Like a Prayer"
U2, "Mysterious Ways"

Take that, Y107. Or Z107, for that matter.

I'm going to my dad's office in the morning to see Helen (his secretary), but then it's back to Columbia so Meredith and I can look at an apartment at 2. Wish us luck.

Hope you all had a good Easter and that you got experience the strength of the holiday. I know I didn't get into it too much, and instead dwelt more on the worldly aspects. I think those aspects serve as evidence of a greater strength: the idea that we are allowed to experience everything we get to experience, that it is not a right but an act of mercy, because, Lord knows, we don't deserve it. Lord knows, that's for sure.

My dad watching 'Jackass': Dinner at my house, part 1

Tonight at dinner, my dad was telling my brother John and me with pride that he has set up his own customized start page using Yahoo. It has his own news updates, and gives him the weather in St. Louis, San Francisco, Saugatuck, Mich., and even Gower, Mo., where my brother-in-law is from. As a 59-year-old who taught himself how to tool around on the web, Dad's pretty proud of himself, as he should be.

Well, his talk of news updates made me think of a news item I had seen on CNN.com's Offbeat News. It was a blurb about "Bumfights," a series of videos depicting homeless guys beating the crap out of each other and doing crazy stunts like jumping off of buildings. In a former life, mentioning this at the dinner table would have earned me a glare. But not tonight. I don't know if it was because it was Good Friday or that they've gotten older or that I was just being hyper-sensitive. I don't know what the deal was, but my family and I ended up having an in-depth discussion about watching homeless guys beat the crap out of each other.

"That's worse than dwarf tossing!" my dad said.
"No it's not!" my mom countered.
"Uh huh, it is!" dad said.
"Noooo!"

The fact that this conversation was even happening in the first place had my brother and me laughing hysterically. And then we heard my dad say what we never thought we'd hear him say.

"Do you ever watch that 'Jackass' show?'

You're shitting me.

"They had this guy wear an asbestos suit and drape hamburgers and steaks and stuff on, then he got on a grill!" My dad was red and laughing.

You're shitting me.

"Yeah, well some kid did this and now he's got third degree burns on his body. He taped it, too. He says on it, 'Don't do this at home.' But then he goes and does it at home."

This is the man who made me read John F. Kennedy's "Profiles in Courage" when I was in middle school. This is the guy who didn't listen to rock music or anything later than or heavier than the Kingston Trio. And while he may not be a regular viewer of 'Jackass,' he's at least familiar with it and its characters.

Dad, I love you.

There'll be days
When I'll stray
I may appear to be
Constantly out of reach
I give in to sin
Because I like to practice what I preach
I'm not trying to say
I'll have it all my way
I'm always willing to learn
When you've got something to teach
And I'll make it all worthwhile
I'll make your heart smile...
-Depeche Mode, "Strangelove"

Ashley and I saw "Chicago" last night. I'd never seen it, which I now realize was a sin. It was so good and now today I was singing the songs from it all day long.

Still trying to figure what to do for the summer, much less a career. One day at a time, eh? Funny note(s), though: I e-mailed two of the writers from the writers' conference and they e-mailed me back. I've got 40-year-old women for pen pals. And mama always said I was a mature little boy.

Speaking of boys (and Chicago, and "Chicago"), I am posting the following AOL IM message from Baron as to explain why he no longer updates his blog:

BJ2001DS: hey bitch
BJ2001DS: i stopped doing my blogg i'm to stupid
BJ2001DS: it made my head hurt

And when our worlds they fall apart
When the walls come tumbling in
Though we may deserve it
It will be worth it
Bring your chains
Your lips of tragedy
And fall into my arms...
-Depeche Mode, "Halo"

Yeah, normally I wouldn't post two sets of lyrics like this, but I have been on a big Depeche Mode kick again and well, screw it, both songs are pretty good. Their whole collection is growing on me, actually, and I'm seeing how I fell in love with them in the first place. Just thought I'd throw it all out there.

Where do we go from here?
It seems so all too near
Just as far beyond as I can see
I still don't know what this all means to me...
-"Destination Unknown," Missing Persons

I bet Courtney five bucks this weekend that we'd hear at least one person at the National Writers' Workshop in St. Louis say, "I am a writer" ala "Wonder Boys." We didn't hear those exact words, but by the end, I was screaming them myself. Smitten babbling fool trying his damnedest to not be pretentious and giddy around some of the most acclaimed writers in the biz, yeah, that was me.

The weekend was a blast. The writers gave great talks and it was pretty encouraging for us young writers to hear that we could actually have a future in this industry. These people won all sorts of awards from organizations whose names are acronyms I can't remember and all blend into alphabet soup to me, but still, these people were damn good. These people could narrate what it's like to go to the bathroom and make it sound good. Of course, that's a topic that lends itself to some pretty easy bullshitting.

One of the talks was meant to show how to write "edgy" pieces without using the f-word or resorting to first person. The speaker was the editor of the "West Word" in Denver, and she began the speech by admitting that most of the pieces she'd read to us were littered with the f-word and written in first person. Still, they were good pieces. One guy had written about a hotel in Denver that had decayed to the point that it was a dirt heap where only drug addicts, prostitutes and rats stayed. After the story ran, an employee of the hotel wrote a letter to the editor accusing the writer of not knowing what a crack pipe would look like. In defense of the story, this writer - who is also now Pat's personal hero - wrote back, responding, "I've hung out with many a crackhead. I've know many a people who sucked on the glass dick." Later in the same response, he said that the person could spend time in the hotel to get a feel for it, though he would recommend against it, because "that place will go David Lynch on your ass in a hurry."

This conference was wonderfully refreshing and I couldn't possibly do it justice by trying to type more. I will conclude, though, by saying that the headliner on Sunday was a bitchin' dude who reminded me of myself in that he loved disco and was insanely close with his mother. So close was he to his "mama" that during his first job, his mom drove him around to cover the cops beat. He had lied and said he had a car to get the job, and once he did get it, he needed to travel all over El Paso, so he and his mom went to town. Literally. How cool is that? And, how much like me and my mom does this sound? I bet you this guy has been known to eat cookie dough with his mom while watching Oprah, too. Man, what a zany messed up world.

The weekend was pretty fulfilling because of the people with whom I attended the conference. Having Courtney in St. Louis with me always helps me enjoy the city more and I'm not entirely sure why. I think part of it is that I'll consciously recognize my personal landmarks when we pass them and thus make an effort to point them out to her in that "Do you remember me telling you about....?" kind of way. And, she does remember me telling her about such-and-such, because as my best friend, that is kinda sorta her job, among others. :) (Don't worry, I'm not subjugating her into a collection of roles, and she knows this.)

Being home is always good for my spirits. Seeing my dad makes me look forward to the person I could potentially become. I told many people this weekend that I feel very proud if someone can meet my parents and tell me that I am similar to them. I can't voice how flattering that is. And my mom has gotten funnier. I don't know how, but she has.

And speaking of people who fall under the "where I get my strength" category....

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ERICA!

Yup, it's her birthday today (Tax Day, of all days!) and it's that birthday... She's 21-- finally legal. Of course, she's been in Europe for three months, and so it's not like she hasn't been able to legally partake in the zesty stuff for a while anyway. But, upon returning to the county of Boone, she can partake. And in this town, there is much reason to partake.

In any case, "Happy Birthday" to one of my best friends and one of my favorite people. I love you more than I can say and I am glad you're having the time of your life in London.

If only politics could work like 'American Idol'...
Did you vote this week? Somebody did in this town. In fact, some people in this town even voted twice.

Of course, Henry Lane didn't win. Again. Poor fella. But he's got a girlfriend now! I've seen her, too. They were together at the Artisan on Tuesday, and he even had his arm around her and let her walk ahead of him. What a stud. (Note to Jackie: click on the link above to go to Henry's website. It's got a picture of him on there, and he looks like he's game to F-R-E-A-K!)

Now, imagine Goodloe putting that on a pumpkin! HA! Take that mental picture!

And this week is just about over...

A parking ticket, a sore throat, sleeping too late twice, a sociology paper and a large phone bill made for a worn-out Pat. Boo!

But, things that made the week cooler than ninjas included:

*I did get to look at some cute apartments with Meredith this week, and I get to look at the grandaddy of them all tomorrow.
*I talked to Erica on the phone yesterday for quite a while. It was like old times at the Artisan, except it wasn't at the Artisan, there was no coffee, I couldn't see her face, and it was thousands of miles away. But still, lots o' fun!
*Finding out that Hazard to ya Booty will be at Music Cafe tonight. Word up, home slices. This white boy wants the funk, and he likes his funk uncut.

Also on the 'cool!' front...

About half an hour ago, Josh got a call from Zipatoni (the ad agency he interviewed for last week) and found out that he got the internship. He'll be working on the Miller Lite team. What a cool dude. And what's also quite cool is that he will be working in an office in downtown St. Louis. This building has a giant tomato with a face on it in its foyer, and has a couple bars, too, expressly for the building's employees. How snazzy is it that his 21st is in July?

Jake is a Homestar. Er, rock star. I meant rock star.

For the longest time, Jake was raving about "Strong Bad's e-mails," but I never saw it or knew what the hell he was talking about until over spring break, when he finally exposed me to the site. It is absolutely hilarious-- Strong Bad wears a Mexican wrestling mask, has a goofy accent of no real definite origin, there's a yellow thing that looks like a mix between a cheetah and a Pokemon, and there's a very politically incorrect pasty white character. Now that I think about it, many parts of the site are politically incorrect. It's so damn cool. And Jackie's still a ho.

Bling blingin' with a soy latte and a fleet of white people


Madonna's new album comes out on April 22. It has that "Die Another Day" track on there, but also has a track on it called "American Life." Supposedly that is the new single and video, but I haven't seen it yet, but I did download the song off Kazaa.

Oh my.

Missy 'Misdemeanor' Elliott helped mix this track and even does a few rhymes for it. More odd, though, is that the track features Madonna doing some rhymes, too. I shit you not. Madonna raps.

And if that wasn't enough, then the content of said rap is sure to do it for you, whatever "it" is. (And if this doesn't do "it" for you, I'm sure Metamucil or Immodium will, but I'm thinking this track could put both of those out of business.)

Here is said rap:

I'm drinking a Soy latte
I get a double shoté
It goes right through my body
And you know I'm satisfied
I drive my Mini Cooper
And I'm feeling super-dooper
Yo they tell I'm a trooper
And you know I'm satisfied
I do yoga and palates
And the room is full of hotties
So I'm checking out the bodies
And you know I'm satisfied
I'm digging on the isotopes
This metaphysic's shit is dope
And if all this can give me hope
You know I'm satisfied
I got a lawyer and a manager
An agent and a chef
Three nannies, an assistant
And a driver and a jet
A trainer and a butler
And a bodyguard or five
A gardener and a stylist
Do you think I'm satisfied?
I'd like to express my extreme point of view
I'm not Christian and I'm not a Jew
I'm just living out the American dream
And I just realised that nothing
Is what it seems...

When Ja Rule and Ludacrais see this shit, they're gonna freak. Madonna doesn't need to try to prove herself with a rap that tells everything she owns and has. Of course she has more than them, she's a rich white person. Is she going to start going into the ghetto now to show it off now, too? Michael Jackson sorta does that, too, except he brings the ghetto kids back to his place and then sleeps with them.

# posted by Patrick : 7:34 PM

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day...?

I woke up with a sore throat today (Monday) at 11:07 a.m., though the alarm was set for 7:25 a.m. It would have been helpful had it gone off at said time, because I had sociology of sex roles at 10. This was the second time I had missed that class, Dr. Bank is a stickler for attendance: she takes three points off your grade for each absence. We had a test just last week, so I didn't miss anything that will be important immediately, but Meredith and I had said that during class today we'd plan when we'd go look at apartments together. I kinda screwed that up.

And I was late to 310, and got there with only 10 minutes left. The door to 214 was locked, though, and not wanting to interrupt Karolyn with that little time left, opted to just sit outside the door, read the morning's paper and listen to her talk about Quark.

The day picked up a bit, though. Katie and Chip were at the Artisan, and I got a cold drugs pack at the Student Death Center today, where I saw Kater and Megan "Ho!" Clark.

Meredith and I did end up talking to each other so as to look at apartments/houses/places to live next year. Josh and Keith are staying in this duplex, but Derek is moving into my room as I will only be here for one semester next year and he will be here for two. Meredith and I put our heads together and decided to share a place because I'll be here first semester when she's in Ghana, and she'll be here second semester when I'm in London (knock on wood, formica, Jake's brother's head, etc.) She promised Gillian O'Brien that she'd live with her, so if this all works out, Gillian and I will be roommies first semester. Good Irish girl, and Meredith says she's quite politically conscious. This could work. Silver lining for this day, enter here. Things are looking up. The place we really want is off Bass. Wish us luck, pray for us, talk to any mafiaso friends.

When I got home, Jill from the 7th floor had left a message about asking me to take over her lease for next year. Man, I thought, when did I become hot property? In an instance of technological genius, I ended up erasing every message on the machine, including one Josh said was from Erica but I hadn't even gotten to listen to yet. Again, the theme from earlier in the morning returned.

Pat took his cold pills and took a nap. He made a veggie pizza, downloaded some mindless pop off Kazaa, and registered for the National Writer's Workshop. A brief conversation with Mom, getting to hear the Missy remix of the new Madonna song, a second wind of energy and a few hours at the Artisan made Pat feel better. Thus, the Monday of Pat was redeemed.

"Is it possible to get a cup of coffee flavored coffee anymore in this country? What happened with coffee? Did I miss a meeting? They have every other flavor but coffee flavored coffee. They have mochaccino, frappaccino, cappuccino, Al Pacino... Coffee doesn't need a menu, it needs a cup."
-Denis Leary

I came to a realization about the Artisan today. I haven't been sure about what attracted me to it, but I'm becoming clear of its shortcomings. They aren't even really 'shortcomings,' either, they are just characteristics that distinquish it from Coffee Cartel.

Don't get me wrong. I still love the Artisan. I've come to appreciate the attractive brainiac types with glasses and black turtlenecks who come in and talk about the constructs of society. I've come to appreciate the odd looks I get, but that's because I bug the baristas and get off on answering the daily quizzes. I consider these aspects turn-ons, actually, because they help me realize that I am still distinct from the overall coffee house ambience. The Artisan is overall a great fit for me in terms of atmosphere. It's different enough from other things in Columbia to make it stand out, but it's not so different so as to turn people away as being pretentious in the "Oh, I just want to sit in my closet and listen to Modest Mouse while thinking about the cows I'm not eating" kind of way. It's got a good balance, and it allows me to be myself.

But there are limits.

Before going into the Artisan tonight, I had the new Justin Timberlake song stuck in my head, but the Artisan was playing sad bastard music. And if I started singing it, I'd have been sure to be lynched, because there, bands like U2 and R.E.M. are treated as guilty pleasures to not mention out loud socially. But at Cartel, they would probably be playing the Justin Timberlake song, or at least the divas would be singing it, each in his own key. Some of the them would even be doing the dance moves from the video, because the cast parties I went to in high school indicate that Cartel's clientele would know these moves. Heck, if certain friends of mine are any indication, these divas could have even been in the video!

And yet Cartel isn't perfect, either. They may have some people in there studying or discussing the things that people in black turtlenecks talk about in public, but the majority of the discussion is who was wearing what at Faces last week, who was seen with who and who they want to get to know next. In a lot of ways, now that I think about it, Cartel is what KOMU's break room would be if only they had a fresh roaster.

Song currently holding my head hostage:
The Smiths, "Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before"

Nothing new to post except that:
*I ate my vegetables today.
*I turned in my Artisan application today.
*Marquette's mascot still looks like: a) a donut hole with a beak, or b) a burnt breadstick with googly eyes attached.
*I finally made "Vol. 1" of Erin's 80s CDs.
*I'll probably be in Springfield for Easter.
*I'm still not doing so well with Lent again this year...
*Everybody still wants to rule the world.
*Stop! It's beaver time.

And speaking of beaver time, it is Claire's birthday. Happy Birthday, Claire!

Musical fun fact:
Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer" is kinda funky when you listen to it with the video. Not sure if it is as strong without said video. There's something about the claymation and flying toasters and all that jazz that really adds to the track. Otherwise, it just sounds like Steve Winwood.

My 350 website is finished! I finished it today and turned it in to Curt at 5 p.m. To access said site, click here.

Let me know what you think. I had fun making it.

The best part is this picture of Jake from when he was a little kid....

Isn't he adorable? Or, if not adorable, isn't he at least something?

Josh's interview went well, but he's now kinda nervous. Send the boy some happy vibes. It is all detailed on his blog.

As for me, I have an hour to kill before bed and well, I was hoping I could work on a script or something like that, and I don't have any ideas. That so ticks me off.

If you have any ideas, feel free to send them my way. I could combine characters or have unlikely people cross paths or even write about grandmothers or any of that stuff. I shouldn't have such a problem with all this, being that my extended family is nuttier than Chinese chicken salad. In addition to the great porn story, there is: the smut-peddler romance novelist; the cousin who had a kid with his girlfriend, named the baby after a state, and then the girlfriend-now-wife is happy to tell us she's fixed and is asking us if she can come to our houses to host lingerie parties. Not to mention my own nuclear family.

Hmmmm.....

Okay, now this has some possibilities.

In any case, send me your ideas.

More later, yos.

Josh has a blog now. You can get to it here.

He had an internship interview today at an ad agency in St. Louis, so let's hope that went well. The place is downtown, at the corner of Sixth and Washington (i.e. the club district). He said the company's logo is more or less a tomato with a face on it, and that their offices have no regular lights, but instead opt for neon and blacklights, and the like.

To show support for young Joshua, I wore his black leather wristband all day today. It was like wearing ribbons to "support our troops," except it was all for Josh, so it was my "support (my) troop" movement.

While mentioning Josh's new blog, I suppose I should also inform all of you of some other blogs: Rachel's and Baron's. Both are good and worth checking out. I particularly recommend Baron's, to show you why, I have included an excerpt from one of his posts below:

"(I was at) the most ghetto club u can ever go to. Oh baby! SO MANY THUGS AND GHETTO CHICKENS AND SO LITTLE TIME. They were everywhere. i couldn't even turn my head without seeing someone smoking a blunt or drinking some henny. Oh God it was great. I was in heaven."

Now, speaking of blogs, you know who should have a blog is Peter Arnett. He is a funny, funny man, and I'll tell you why. After being fired by MSNBC, he took a job almost immediately with the Daily Mirror and wrote a column of sorts to explain his actions. This column-type piece begins with him expressing that "I am still in shock and awe" after being fired. Jackie showed me this today near the fountain at Brady and the two of us laughed so hard that I'm sure we turned heads, if only we were paying attention.