Wednesday, January 28, 2004
Miget has been metaphorically on my back to update this blog, but I have been e-mailing most of you instead, quite frankly because I am a needy, pathetic little man and this lack of comments bullshit is just breaking my heart. I didn’t start this blog to vent or to write or whatever; I started it so that you all could read my inane thoughts and then kiss my ass and tell me it tastes like ice cream. The lack of comments prevents this from happening.
Which is just as well, because if you guys ever did start to patronize me, then something would be wrong.
But back to mocking Miget.
Like I said, she’s been metaphorically on me, but she hadn’t updated her blog since the night that she and David covered a school board meeting together, and Henry L*n*’s shorty was going all Dr. Laura and shit. You’ll recall that was almost two months ago. In December.
And yet I get harassing e-mails at work about how I need to update the blog. Some of those e-mails come from Katie Swartz, God bless her so-indie-it-hurts soul. If you’re reading this, Ms. Swartz, feel validated. If you’re not reading this, then I guess I shouldn’t feel validated.
And now Miget has finally updated her blog.
So, consider this post an example of me being submissive, and not in the Jackie’s mom kind of way.
Our cast of characters for this next story include:
Freddie, the frat boy with a heart of gold and apparently a brain of gold, too, because he thinks everyone here "wants his nuts"
Ben, the South Pole wearin’, "Yo"-sayin’, bitch-slappin’ thug comin’ at ya straight outta Nowhere, Tennessee
Adam, the Napoleon-sized would-be Mac, complete with the curly hair and the "Let me grind with you, baby" dance moves
Each night, these fabulous boys come home around 2ish, buzz every flat in the basement, bang on shit, knock on doors and make enough noise to wake up Helen Keller.
I’ve already told Adam that the next time I hear him, "I’m taking your anal virginity with my PaperMate pen."
That got mixed results.
I haven’t gotten woken up as much, but I haven’t gotten enough sleep, either, but his anus is still intact and not marked with blue ink. And yet it has more or less communicated to him that I am not fucking around. It might also have said that I am a sociopath, but it also says I don’t mess around.
Adam rooms with Freddie, who called his frat brothers from my flat to let them know that he was "pullin’ box" and then would repeatedly butcher a cliche and said no less than nine times that “I’m having the tiiiiime of a liiiiiife.”
Better watch out, Freddie, my PaperMate pen might want the time of a life, too.
Well, on Friday night, they were pretty loud coming home, as always, but this time I was up as well, because I had gone to Neighbourhood with Miget. I was getting off the phone with my sister and Freddie wanted to use the phone so he could call home. I of course obliged, because I love Freddie phone hour. It’s one of the saddest and best parts of my week.
He calls his mom and the first thing he says to her is, "We got a duck. I need you to send some duck food over from the states so that we can feed this duck."
By "we got a duck," he means that he and Ben drunkenly met these bastards who were bragging about kicking the duck and so they thought they’d take it away and bring it to our strictly no-pets flat.
So we a guest for the night.
I went into Freddie’s room to see it, and there on Adam’s bed, on a nest of loose leaf sheets, was a very proper looking duck that appeared as though it was one of those wooden ducks that lawyers keep on their desk.
His name?
"Petey!"
They ended up letting Petey go the next day, by "setting him free" in Hyde Park. What was great about it, though, was that it stayed on Adam’s bed, and Adam has this unnatural, irrational fear of birds, particularly flying birds. A duck is not the first thing that comes to mind when you think of flying birds, but technically it is a flying bird. My question is whether Adam noticed it, or whether he just assumed that lump was part of his mane of hair.
My sister sent me a postcard and part of what it said included...
Michael had a bad dream the other night. ‘Mom, I had a bad dream. It was about a sandwich. It had lettuce on it and tomato and turkey. I ate the turkey and it wasn’t a bad dream after all.’ Oh, to be 5 years old again.
Funny, Brian and I have been having that dream for years.
Sunday, January 25, 2004
From: Katy K*ckh*m
To: Pat
Subject: Dream...
Hey! I am disappointed we did not get to hang out before you left. I miss you.
I had another weird dream about you last night (remember the one where we went shoe shopping for red high heels?). But this one is even stranger:
I had a dream that I got kicked out of my house and I started living at your parents house. You lived there too. I slept on your couch. We bought these hampsters, both male, and one day I went to grab one out of the cage to play with it and they were having anal. But that's not even the weirdest part - right before they were done, they pulled out and they both had these massive penises and their cum shot out like a garden hose with water!!!! Then we got salamanders and frogs in this huge aquarium. We caught them in the creek by your house and you didn't want them anymore and I did so you gave them to me . Someone broke their aquarium and they all got out and I wouldn't touch them because I said they were too slimmey and you saved them all for me and put them back into a bucket. Then my alarm went off. Weird.
How's London?
Katy
How I love her so.
And the rest of you as well.
The comments feature on this blog, and all the other blogs using the Klinks, is well, down.
Dan and Erica have found a new site to use, but I haven't done it yet, and being that time is money at the Internet cafes, I'll do it sometime later, like at work.
The pieces on Heaven, Candybox and Britney Spears are all me. Let me know what you think.
More later.
To: Pat
Subject: Dream...
Hey! I am disappointed we did not get to hang out before you left. I miss you.
I had another weird dream about you last night (remember the one where we went shoe shopping for red high heels?). But this one is even stranger:
I had a dream that I got kicked out of my house and I started living at your parents house. You lived there too. I slept on your couch. We bought these hampsters, both male, and one day I went to grab one out of the cage to play with it and they were having anal. But that's not even the weirdest part - right before they were done, they pulled out and they both had these massive penises and their cum shot out like a garden hose with water!!!! Then we got salamanders and frogs in this huge aquarium. We caught them in the creek by your house and you didn't want them anymore and I did so you gave them to me . Someone broke their aquarium and they all got out and I wouldn't touch them because I said they were too slimmey and you saved them all for me and put them back into a bucket. Then my alarm went off. Weird.
How's London?
Katy
How I love her so.
And the rest of you as well.
The comments feature on this blog, and all the other blogs using the Klinks, is well, down.
Dan and Erica have found a new site to use, but I haven't done it yet, and being that time is money at the Internet cafes, I'll do it sometime later, like at work.
The pieces on Heaven, Candybox and Britney Spears are all me. Let me know what you think.
More later.
Friday, January 16, 2004
Upcoming birthday: David, Saturday, January 17
The White Boy Dance Party has landed. Look out, London and beyond, you're about to get your world rocked. And me mine, though the past few days have already included me getting my world rocked.
Sidenote: these keyboards are a bit different. There's a slash key right by the Z where I am used to there being a shift key, so when I want capital letters, I sometimes end up getting a \ instead.
Okay, back to me getting rocked like Jenna Jameson.
I can't do this place justice. Nothing I can say will be able to convey the experience appropriately, and there is so much to say and there's no logical starting point. It's similar to when a 18-year-old gets to college and experiences everything all at once and then Mom calls and asks, "How is it?" There is so much to that "it" that you feel like you're giving the short shrift. This of course is a lot different and better than being the 18-year-old getting to college, but I knew that those of you who hadn't been abroad (or a broad abroad) would be able to get the idea from that.
The British people we have met have been nice thus far. Groups of us went on pub crawls on Saturday (the night we arrived, no less) and ended up at a Goth bar called the Black Widow. It was dark, with minimal lighting, all colored in black or red. They played the Tom Jones and Cardigans version of "Burning Down The House," which was great, because I didn't know anyone listened to that besides Crank. While there, we met three locals (see the other blog for other details). They were friendly, and even accompanied us to the bar at the Imperial College Student Union. From there, most people were leaving, because we had an 8 a.m. bus tour the next morning, but the Brits insisted we go out some more. They were fun, I liked them a lot and we are going to be seeing them this Friday. Or Bobby at least.
The Americans, though, have not been so high on my cool list.
Greek Town comes to London
I've quickly picked up that we Americans are loud, self-absorbed and just plain ignorant. It doesn't help that 99 percent of the people on this trip are sorostitutes. I love my Greek friends, you know this, Erica is in a sorority and you all know what I think of her. But bear in mind that Erica is as typical of sorority chicks as I am of DeSmet boys. These girls all hang in a clique, take an hour to get ready, drink too much and refuse to go home, even when the pubs have closed.
I was with some girls when hanging with the aforementioned Brits. Miget, Ali and Mackenzie are cool chicks, and they are exempt from my criticisms of the Kappa Kappa Spank Me crowd. The others we were with were cool, too, but it was late, and we needed to get back. One girl, though, insisted on staying with these guys, going to a bar with a three-pound cover ($6, essentially). She kept drinking and refused to listen to anyone try to get her to shut up, stop drinking, or admit that she shouldn't be so cozy with a strange foreign boy who she just met and is not her boyfriend of two years. But that's all beside the point. What sealed her fate is when I told her that Mackenzie was ready for us to go, this girl justified her behavio(u)r for the night by saying:
"I'm sorry, but I can't have fun until I know I look good. I know that sounds bad or whatever, but that's how I am."
You've got to be fucking me.
But that's beside the point.
This girl is still fun to hang out with, and is by no means the norm. But most of them are like this to at least some degree. There are a handful of exceptions, though, and they are the ones truly fun to be with.
When someone here asks what house you're in, you can classify them into these main ones:
1) Kappa Kappa Spank Me
2) Sigma Alpha Male
3) House of Buggin'
4) House Party 3
There are only a handful of guys here, but they are all cool, too. Can't think of one guy that I wouldn't want to hang with at the pubs. Laid back and the like.
Ben folds... and wins
Ben is from Tusculum College in Tennessee and for being a southern boy, he's learned how to speak "ghetto-ass." He's six feet tall, at least, but he slouches, and wears South Pole. His observations of British culture have been the best, because he doesn't say anything other than his raw thoughts at the exact moment he's thinking them.
On British strip-clubs: "I was all game to go, but I wasn't sure how I could flip a pound into a chick's G-string, you know?"
He's one of the regulars at Finnegan's Wake. Yes, we've been here five days, but the boys have already found their bar. I went with them tonight, and it was fun -- a "football" game was on in the background -- but chill. It was a great place to just sit, relax and talk. This night's conversation was on various people in the group. The main engagers in this discussion were Freddie, an SMSU Sigma Nu, and Martina, a senior at Alice Lloyd in Bumblefuck, Ky.
"I'm on a first-name basis with about 80 percent of the people on this trip," Freddie said.
"See, I saw all the sorority girls and wanted no part of that," Martina said. "And I can't tell which is which, so I said to hell with that."
"Well, you gotta know how to talk to them," Freddie countered. "I said to them on the first day, 'You all are snobs, and I'm not fucking having it.'"
At this point, Tanya, who had been cuddling with Ben, started to pay attention.
"You did?!" Tanya said.
"Yeah, I did," Freddie said. "At first, they were all like, 'What did you say?' I said, 'You heard me! I'm in Greek Life at SMS and I know what you are coming from, and I don't want any of that while I'm in London.' And they were dumbfounded, but I think they respected me."
He was greeted with silence from Tanya and Martina. They, too, were dumbfounded -- such talk to women is not common in their native south.
But it didn't bother Ben.
"Yeah, you gotta put them hoes in their place!"
More dumbfounding. And still, it didn't bother him.
"Hey, who wants more beer?"
We were walking home and we passed a telephone booth. Martina stopped to go on and take off some of the ads that line all the booths in London. These ads are pictures of naked chicks with green stars barely covering their nipples. Ben and I were shocked but excited that Martina would want to take these.
"Hell yeah!" Ben screamed. "I wanna line the walls of my room with these bitches!"
But Martina wasn't going after the ads. She was going after the sticky tack behind it, so she could put up pictures in her room. Of her fiancee. Of two years.
"Well fuck that shit!" Ben said when Martina walked out of the telephone booth without any naked chicks in her hand. "What a waste of a trip into the booth. I'm gonna git that shit myself."
So we went in and surveyed the lot.
"Hell yeah, I like that!" he said. "Oh, Swedish women... Brunette chicks, okay... Asian bitches, hell yeah, I'll take that, I love Oriental bitches! Whoooday!"
And for that, we were walking alone for the next block.
Tonight, I'm off to Sanctuary with Emily, a good lass from SMSU, and tomorrow, C-line and I hit Heaven like Jack and Karen. But not quite.
The White Boy Dance Party has landed. Look out, London and beyond, you're about to get your world rocked. And me mine, though the past few days have already included me getting my world rocked.
Sidenote: these keyboards are a bit different. There's a slash key right by the Z where I am used to there being a shift key, so when I want capital letters, I sometimes end up getting a \ instead.
Okay, back to me getting rocked like Jenna Jameson.
I can't do this place justice. Nothing I can say will be able to convey the experience appropriately, and there is so much to say and there's no logical starting point. It's similar to when a 18-year-old gets to college and experiences everything all at once and then Mom calls and asks, "How is it?" There is so much to that "it" that you feel like you're giving the short shrift. This of course is a lot different and better than being the 18-year-old getting to college, but I knew that those of you who hadn't been abroad (or a broad abroad) would be able to get the idea from that.
The British people we have met have been nice thus far. Groups of us went on pub crawls on Saturday (the night we arrived, no less) and ended up at a Goth bar called the Black Widow. It was dark, with minimal lighting, all colored in black or red. They played the Tom Jones and Cardigans version of "Burning Down The House," which was great, because I didn't know anyone listened to that besides Crank. While there, we met three locals (see the other blog for other details). They were friendly, and even accompanied us to the bar at the Imperial College Student Union. From there, most people were leaving, because we had an 8 a.m. bus tour the next morning, but the Brits insisted we go out some more. They were fun, I liked them a lot and we are going to be seeing them this Friday. Or Bobby at least.
The Americans, though, have not been so high on my cool list.
I've quickly picked up that we Americans are loud, self-absorbed and just plain ignorant. It doesn't help that 99 percent of the people on this trip are sorostitutes. I love my Greek friends, you know this, Erica is in a sorority and you all know what I think of her. But bear in mind that Erica is as typical of sorority chicks as I am of DeSmet boys. These girls all hang in a clique, take an hour to get ready, drink too much and refuse to go home, even when the pubs have closed.
I was with some girls when hanging with the aforementioned Brits. Miget, Ali and Mackenzie are cool chicks, and they are exempt from my criticisms of the Kappa Kappa Spank Me crowd. The others we were with were cool, too, but it was late, and we needed to get back. One girl, though, insisted on staying with these guys, going to a bar with a three-pound cover ($6, essentially). She kept drinking and refused to listen to anyone try to get her to shut up, stop drinking, or admit that she shouldn't be so cozy with a strange foreign boy who she just met and is not her boyfriend of two years. But that's all beside the point. What sealed her fate is when I told her that Mackenzie was ready for us to go, this girl justified her behavio(u)r for the night by saying:
"I'm sorry, but I can't have fun until I know I look good. I know that sounds bad or whatever, but that's how I am."
You've got to be fucking me.
But that's beside the point.
This girl is still fun to hang out with, and is by no means the norm. But most of them are like this to at least some degree. There are a handful of exceptions, though, and they are the ones truly fun to be with.
When someone here asks what house you're in, you can classify them into these main ones:
1) Kappa Kappa Spank Me
2) Sigma Alpha Male
3) House of Buggin'
4) House Party 3
There are only a handful of guys here, but they are all cool, too. Can't think of one guy that I wouldn't want to hang with at the pubs. Laid back and the like.
Ben is from Tusculum College in Tennessee and for being a southern boy, he's learned how to speak "ghetto-ass." He's six feet tall, at least, but he slouches, and wears South Pole. His observations of British culture have been the best, because he doesn't say anything other than his raw thoughts at the exact moment he's thinking them.
On British strip-clubs: "I was all game to go, but I wasn't sure how I could flip a pound into a chick's G-string, you know?"
He's one of the regulars at Finnegan's Wake. Yes, we've been here five days, but the boys have already found their bar. I went with them tonight, and it was fun -- a "football" game was on in the background -- but chill. It was a great place to just sit, relax and talk. This night's conversation was on various people in the group. The main engagers in this discussion were Freddie, an SMSU Sigma Nu, and Martina, a senior at Alice Lloyd in Bumblefuck, Ky.
"I'm on a first-name basis with about 80 percent of the people on this trip," Freddie said.
"See, I saw all the sorority girls and wanted no part of that," Martina said. "And I can't tell which is which, so I said to hell with that."
"Well, you gotta know how to talk to them," Freddie countered. "I said to them on the first day, 'You all are snobs, and I'm not fucking having it.'"
At this point, Tanya, who had been cuddling with Ben, started to pay attention.
"You did?!" Tanya said.
"Yeah, I did," Freddie said. "At first, they were all like, 'What did you say?' I said, 'You heard me! I'm in Greek Life at SMS and I know what you are coming from, and I don't want any of that while I'm in London.' And they were dumbfounded, but I think they respected me."
He was greeted with silence from Tanya and Martina. They, too, were dumbfounded -- such talk to women is not common in their native south.
But it didn't bother Ben.
"Yeah, you gotta put them hoes in their place!"
More dumbfounding. And still, it didn't bother him.
"Hey, who wants more beer?"
We were walking home and we passed a telephone booth. Martina stopped to go on and take off some of the ads that line all the booths in London. These ads are pictures of naked chicks with green stars barely covering their nipples. Ben and I were shocked but excited that Martina would want to take these.
"Hell yeah!" Ben screamed. "I wanna line the walls of my room with these bitches!"
But Martina wasn't going after the ads. She was going after the sticky tack behind it, so she could put up pictures in her room. Of her fiancee. Of two years.
"Well fuck that shit!" Ben said when Martina walked out of the telephone booth without any naked chicks in her hand. "What a waste of a trip into the booth. I'm gonna git that shit myself."
So we went in and surveyed the lot.
"Hell yeah, I like that!" he said. "Oh, Swedish women... Brunette chicks, okay... Asian bitches, hell yeah, I'll take that, I love Oriental bitches! Whoooday!"
And for that, we were walking alone for the next block.
Tonight, I'm off to Sanctuary with Emily, a good lass from SMSU, and tomorrow, C-line and I hit Heaven like Jack and Karen. But not quite.
Friday, January 09, 2004
Today I leave for London.
I leave Lambert at 12:53 p.m., get to O'Hare around 2ish, can check in for the London flight starting at 3:30, have to check in by 5, and finally get to fly out at 8:45 p.m.
This blog is by no means dying or any of that jazz, but I will also be using another blog, one more appropriate for Mom and Dad and their friends:
http://www.englishbeat.blogspot.com
My dad has a friend who used to be head of the St. Louis FBI. I had a "security briefing" with him last night (beer) and so now I feel confident to swish and sass my way across the Atlantic.
So, I'll see you guys from across the pond!
Take care of Boone County for me.
I leave Lambert at 12:53 p.m., get to O'Hare around 2ish, can check in for the London flight starting at 3:30, have to check in by 5, and finally get to fly out at 8:45 p.m.
This blog is by no means dying or any of that jazz, but I will also be using another blog, one more appropriate for Mom and Dad and their friends:
http://www.englishbeat.blogspot.com
My dad has a friend who used to be head of the St. Louis FBI. I had a "security briefing" with him last night (beer) and so now I feel confident to swish and sass my way across the Atlantic.
So, I'll see you guys from across the pond!
Take care of Boone County for me.
Friday, January 02, 2004
The first post of '04 has two messages:
1) Happy New Year
2) Happy Birthday to Derek
That's right. It's a new year, and it's D-Rock's birthday today (Friday). So for those of you who haven't wished him a happy birthday, then what's the matter with you?
Derek has been making his own rhymes for as long as I've known him, and this break, he is embarking on an EP. Go D! He's even going to have some tight beats on the EP, courtesy of Oddjobs. He's got witty lyrics and a flow that is reminiscent of other rappers but is not blatantly derivative of anyone.
So hook D up with some birthday love.
To facilitate comments for this post, everyone should post their favorite D memory. If you don't have one, haven't met him, or haven't even heard of him, that's okay, too, feel free to write that as well. D's laid back and cool, and won't mind at all. His thug little brother might slash your tires, but Derek himself will leave you alone.
Happy Birthday, D-Rock!
How my friend Mark spent New Year's
Mark: man, i am still hurting
Mark: i jumped on this cab's hood and started stomp on the hood and punching the windshield
Mark: to get me off the cab, he started driving away
Mark: i fell on the ground, broke my fifth of whiskey, fucked up my knee
Mark: i was told it was a completely rediculous event
Mark: but i dont remember any of it
Mark: my new years resolution is to not drink whiskey until st patricks day
1) Happy New Year
2) Happy Birthday to Derek
That's right. It's a new year, and it's D-Rock's birthday today (Friday). So for those of you who haven't wished him a happy birthday, then what's the matter with you?
Derek has been making his own rhymes for as long as I've known him, and this break, he is embarking on an EP. Go D! He's even going to have some tight beats on the EP, courtesy of Oddjobs. He's got witty lyrics and a flow that is reminiscent of other rappers but is not blatantly derivative of anyone.
So hook D up with some birthday love.
To facilitate comments for this post, everyone should post their favorite D memory. If you don't have one, haven't met him, or haven't even heard of him, that's okay, too, feel free to write that as well. D's laid back and cool, and won't mind at all. His thug little brother might slash your tires, but Derek himself will leave you alone.
Happy Birthday, D-Rock!
Mark: man, i am still hurting
Mark: i jumped on this cab's hood and started stomp on the hood and punching the windshield
Mark: to get me off the cab, he started driving away
Mark: i fell on the ground, broke my fifth of whiskey, fucked up my knee
Mark: i was told it was a completely rediculous event
Mark: but i dont remember any of it
Mark: my new years resolution is to not drink whiskey until st patricks day
